Without the Mask
by YouThinkYouNoeMe
Summary: Trish decides to investigate the mysterious personality of Dave Batista. Characters-Pairings: Trish-Batista, Stacy-Randy, Molly-Christian, Triple H, Ric Flair, Christy Hemme, others?
1. Part 1

**Title: Without the Mask**

**Rating: PG-13 for language, mild sexual content, and violence**

**Characters/Pairings: Trish/Batista, Stacy/Randy, Molly/Christian, Triple H, Ric Flair, Chris Jericho, Lita, others?**

**Summary: Trish decides to investigate the mysterious personality of Dave Batista.**

**Feedback is much appreciated!!**

**Part One**

Trish Stratus hastily yanked her elbow pad off, tossing it to her gym bag, a sour look etched on her otherwise pretty face. It was all over. Her six month, record setting reign as the Women's Champion had come to an end.

A scowl formed on her lips as the image of Chris Jericho popped into her head. This was all his fault. He had been trying to get her ever since she turned her back on him at Wrestlemania, and he had finally succeeded. The GM-for-a-night booked her in a title match against Lita, and somehow, the redhead and done the impossible: she pinned Trish for the title. And now, while Lita got to prance around in post-match celebration, she was left to sulk in the back.

For the first time in months, Trish was hit with an agonizing pang of loneliness. It took until after her defeat for her to realize, but she was all alone. She had no one. Even after her breakup with Christian, her head was still up because she was the champion. That belt was her only friend. And now it was gone, taken from her by, of all people, her mortal enemy.

With a loud exhale, she rose from the floor, where she had been kneeling before her bag. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. When she opened them, she found herself eyeing her own reflection as she curiously gazed into the mirror hanging on the wall.

"Oh my God..." she muttered under her breath, her eyes widening in horror.

It felt like - despite the countless times she'd spent staring into a mirror - she was seeing her own face for the first time. It was a shocking realization... she looked _awful_. Her complexion was still flawless, her makeup still perfect, and there was not a hair out of place. That wasn't what seemed so horrible. It was her eyes.

Trish was always big on reading people through their eyes. Hers were empty... dark, cold, and sad. She had never seen such a pitiful gaze coming from her own eyes. The chocolate colored orbs sent her a profound message... she was truly unhappy. A tugging sensation pulled at her chest, and she released a shaky sigh.

Her eyes began to burn... it was an unfamiliar sensation. She blinked a few times, but the feeling persisted. Leaning forward, Trish examined her eyes again, a puzzled look crossing her face. Moisture was building up in her eyes... was she crying?

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she backed away from the mirror, her jaw dropping in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shed tears. The fact that she was actually crying upset her further, causing even more tears to well up in her ducts. She bit down hard on her lip, hoping to stop it from quivering.

"Stop it," she urged herself, staring dead into the mirror again. What the hell was wrong with her? "Ugh, stop it!"

"What did I tell you about talking to yourself?"

Trish's whipped around, placing her arms in front of her in a defensive nature. She could never be sure who was trying to sneak up on her. Her arms dropped to her sides, though, when she saw it was only Molly. Throughout this entire ordeal, the brunette was the only person she considered a friend. They related to each other well, seeing as how they were two of the most hated figures in the women's locker room.

"I'm not in the mood, Mol," she replied.

Molly frowned as she stepped into the room, a disheartened gaze taking over her features as she realized just how upset Trish was. She looked so defeated, and that was not the Trish Stratus that she had come to know over the past months.

"Keep your head up, Trish," she suggested, trying her best to smile for her friend. "It's not the end of the world."

Trish froze for a moment, taking Molly's comment into consideration. She found it odd that Molly would make such a statement, considering how much she valued the title as well. Shaking her head, she reached down and grabbed her bag, flinging it over her shoulders and storming to the door.

"Maybe not to you, Molly," she said, tossing a sad glance in her direction. "But it is for me."

--------------

Swallowing the ominous lump lurking in the depths of her throat, Trish forced the tears back. She also forced a scowl on her face should she bump into anyone, reminding herself that - despite losing her title and feeling like total shit - she had a reputation to uphold once she stepped out of that locker room.

As she walked - head up, of course - down the hall, one of Molly's statement's played in a mantra through her mind. _"It's not the end of the world."_ Easy for her to say... she didn't just have her world yanked out from under her. She didn't just come to the realization that her only famliy was a plastic belt that she no longer even owned. She wasn't left with absolutely nothing.

All the thoughts floating through her mind triggered the tears again. The second she felt the moisture hit her eye, the Canadian diva blinked rapidly. She made it a personal goal not to succumb to the tears till she got to her rental car, since it was obvious she wouldn't be able to make it back to the hotel.

She kicked up her pace a few notches, wanting to get out of the building as soon as humanly possible. God only knew how much she dreaded bumping into Chris Jericho... or even worse, bumping into Lita. Increasing her tempo even more, Trish flew around a corner, smashing right into what felt like a brick wall. She stumbled back a bit, and the strap of her gym bag slid off her shoulder, causing the back to fall to the floor. She gave herself a few moments to gather her bearings, and then she looked up.

What she had run into wasn't actually a brick wall, but it may as well have been. She craned her neck, her chin practically having to be parallel to her neck to see the face of the man she'd collided with. He easily towered over her.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly.

Her apology was made not out of sincerity, rather out of the fact that she worried what his reaction would be if she didn't. From what she had seen, he hadn't been all that stable lately.

"Don't worry about it," came the reply from Dave Batista, as he took a step away from the blonde woman.

Trish almost raised a brow at his comment, and at the calmness in his tone. He had been so testy with Triple H and Ric Flair lately, he didn't seem to ever be in a good mood. She glanced down for a moment, noticing that her gym bag was still sitting on the floor. As soon as she bent down to pick it up, Dave beat her to the punch, dropping down and grabbing the strap himself.

"Here, let me get that," he insisted, handing the strap over to her.

Trish took the bag from his hand, a thoroughly confused look on her face. Was Dave Batista being a gentleman? And with her no less?

"Wow..." she said. "Triple H must've hit you harder than I thought."

Dave cringed at the reference to the accidental chair shot he took to the head earlier in the evening. Grumbling something under his breath, he shook his head and pushed past Trish, continuing his path down the hall. As his figure began to disappear, Trish watched after him, the puzzling encounter with the large man taking her concerns off of her other problems.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Wow, I just wanted to say thanks for the overwhelming response I got to the first chapter of this story! I'm very excited about this fic now, I hope you all decide to keep reading and reviewing!  
Part Two**

A week had passed since Trish had lost her championship. The blonde diva had skipped out on the rest of the week's house shows, the thought of being around her coworkers unbearable. Truthfully, she didn't even want to attend tonight's show, but she forced herself out of the house. She couldn't let them see that she was cracking. 

She found herself in front of the women's locker room, brathing deeply. She dreaded going in there. She had a feeling that whomever was in there would lay it on her pretty thickly. She wasn't exactly the most popular diva. Not that she didn't deserve the treatment. Plastering on a smile, Trish raised her head up and walked through the door, boldly stepping across the room. This wasn't so bad, she couldn't help but think to herself. That notion, of course, disappeared when she realized that she was not alone in the room. 

A pair of dark eyes rested on her, and Trish dropped her bag to the floor as Stacy Keibler stared at her. It wasn't a cold stare, though. It almost looked as if she didn't know what to do. 

"H-hi," the skinny diva said, gazing pitifully at Trish. 

Despite the awful way the Canadian diva had treated her in the past, Stacy couldn't help but sympathize. For some reason, she saw a lot of her former self in Trish's eyes. Before she found happiness, she too walked around with that cold, unfeeling scowl on her face. And regardless of the rotten things she had done, Stacy liked Trish. She knew that the shorter woman was not being her true self, not by a long shot. 

Much as she expected, Trish sent a dirty look her way. 

"You've never been nice to me before, Stacy," she snapped bitterly. "Don't start now." 

Instead of coming up with a retort as she normally would have, Stacy just smiled. Now that she had finally cornered Trish when she was vulnerable, she was determined to find out just what she had locked up in that head of hers. 

"Sorry Trish," she replied sweetly. "You just look like you need someone to talk to... you know, a friend." 

Trish raised an eyebrow at the leggy blonde. What was with her? 

"Like I said, we're not friends. I don't need your friendship," she insisted, though she didn't sound very convincing. 

"Oh, come on, Trish, I know you're unhappy. You need someone. Just talk to me, I promise you'll feel better afterward," Stacy suggested, plopping down on the leather couch and patting the spot next to her. 

Trish glanced around the room nervously, half expecting to find the women's roster peeking out at her. This had to be some sort of sick joke. But there were no hidden cameras, no divas hiding in the showers. 

She exhaled slowly. It was starting to feel like the twilight zone around here. 

"Why are you acting like this?" she asked, refusing to budge. "Am I being Punk'd or something? If this is your idea of a joke, please Stacy, I'm not laughing." 

Stacy sighed, shaking her head. 

"I'm serious, Trish. I'm not ignoring our past, I'm just willing to put it behind me because I know you're hurting, and I hate to see anyone hurt," she admitted, her gaze unwavering. 

Trish eyed her curiously. Could she really be doing this out of the kindness of her heart? After all she had done to her? 

Her feet, which were apparently working faster than her mind, carried her over to the couch, and before she knew it, she was sitting beside Stacy. 

"I don't owe an explanation to you, you know," she said. 

"You're right," Stacy agreed. "But if you wanna get technical, I don't owe you anything, either." 

Trish considered Stacy's comment... it was true. Neither side had anything to lose, it wasn't like there was much love between them. As crazy as the concept would have sounded only a week ago, Trish found herself somewhat ready to talk. 

"Alright," she said, nervously biting her lip. "What do you want to know?" 

Stacy eyed her thoughtfully. There were so many things she wanted to know. Still, her first question came to her almost instantly. 

"Well, for starters, what's going on in your mind right now?" she inquired, shifting towards her. "I know losing the title devastated you," she paused to frown as Trish winced, "but there's more to it than that, I can tell." 

Trish gave her an odd look, and then glanced away. She looked deep in thought, and Stacy's curiosity grew. The Canadian woman was a little hesitant to reveal what she was truly thinking about. Sure, she was still mourning over her loss, but another subject had occupied her mind. 

As strange as it seemed, her brief encounter with Batista had left her intrigued for the entire week. Something about the aura she felt around him had her wondering what he was really like. She glanced back at Stacy, tempted to talk. Stacy had been going out with Randy Orton for some time now, and Dave was Randy's former best friend. Perhaps she could tell her more about him. 

"I..." she began, garnering Stacy's attention. When the two women locked eyes, though, Trish realized she couldn't do it. As much as she wanted someone to trust, she didn't trust Stacy. 

"You know what," she said, promptly rising from the couch. "I can't do this right now. Thanks for the offer, Stacy, but I'm just not ready to open up to you yet." 

She cut their conversation off abruptly, missing the disappointed look Stacy sent her way. 

------------------------------- 

Dave exhaled slowly as he pulled a dumbbell up towards his body. A bead of sweat trickled past his temple as he continued lifting for a few more reps. When he was finished, he dropped the weight to the fllor with a sigh. He was about to switch to his other arm, when he realized that he was no longer alone. Remaning silent, he acknowledged Triple H with a nod. 

"Hey, big man," Hunter spoke, now that he had grabbed Batista's attention. "Why the long face?" 

Dave sighed, shaking his head. He could only imagine the verbal abuse he would take if he told Evolution's leader what was going on in his mind. It was stupid anyway. 

"Just tired," he replied dishonestly, "had a long weekend." 

Hunter eyed him curiously. He could tell right away that Dave was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. However, he wasn't sure he wanted to press him any further, considering his attitude lately. Much as he feared, it seemed that Dave was starting to frow a mind of his own. From experience he knew that mixing brains with muscle formulated a very dangerous combination. Unfortunately for him, he got the feeling that the dangerous combination would not work in his favor. 

"What do you think of Trish Stratus?" Dave asked suddenly, catching Hunter midthought. 

Before Batista could even process that he had asked the question, Triple H laughed loudly. He continued to do so for at least another minute, till Dave stopped him. 

"I'm serious," he said. "What do you think of her?" 

Still chuckling to himself, Hunter responded with a sigh. 

"Oh, Dave, I don't know," he said with a shrug. "She's your typical blonde bitch. But if you want my advice, if you're looking to fuck, pick one of the new girls. That's why Vince hired 'em." 

"No!" Dave cried, surprising both Triple H and himself. "I mean... no, that's not what I meant. It's just that I ran into her the other day, and I realized that we've never really spoken. I got this funny feeling around her, and it's left me curious. I just thought maybe you'd..." 

"What have I told you about thinking, Dave?" Hunter cut him off with a playful grin. 

Batista narrowed his eyes at his so-called leader. He did not appreciate being mocked again, nor did he find he situation at all amusing. It had to be the hundredth time in the past few weeks Hunter had poked fun at his intelligence. He clenched his fists together in an attempt to prevent the anger from boiling through his body. 

"Sorry H, I forgot I'm not allowed to have a brain," he spat under a grunt. 

With that, he rose, storming from the locker room. Being the brunt of Triple H's jokes was growing very old, very fast. He slammed the door shut behind him, scowling as he heart Hunter call after him. 

"Lighten up, man, I was only kidding!" 

"Kidding, my ass," Dave grumbled as he walked away, his fists still clenched tightly. 

No wonder Randy didn't try to fight his way back into Evolution. He was starting to understand why his former best friend had said being booted from the stable was the best thing to ever happen to him. Batista found himself torn. Being a part of Evolution had boosted his career to levels he didn't think possible, and yet, he was unhappy... 

His thoughts were cut off when he saw a blonde head sauntering in the opposite direction. His eyes focused on her, and his stomach flipped a little when he noticed that it was Trish. Without thinking, he walked behind her, unconsciously deciding that he was going to follow her. If Triple H wouldn't give him any information, he'd have to get it for himself. 


	3. Part 3

**A/N: Once again, I can't thank you enough for the response I'm getting for this story. I've got some great ideas for it, so I'll do my best to update regularly!**

Part Three  
Dave tucked himself into the wall, hiding behind an equipment crate, which was not an easy feat considering his size. He poked his head out just an inch or two, catching a glimpse of Trish, who had since stopped walking and was leaning against the wall. His curiosity towards the blonde woman overpowered his discomfort, and he crouched a little lower, watching her closely. 

Trish glanced around for a moment and then closed her eyes, obviously unaware of his presence. A loud sigh escaped her and her body went limp, the wall serving as a support beam to keep her from slipping to the floor.

His brow furrowed as he watched a painful look cross her face, almost like she was going to cry. He frowned... this was the second time in very recent memory he had seen her looking so distraught. All of a sudden, Dave grabbed at his chest, a pang of sympathy striking him. He couldn't understand why, but he felt bad for her. Part of him wanted to get up and talk to her, not only to feed his curiosity, but to see if she was okay. Still, he remained in his spot, grimacing as he adjusted his position a little. He was not meant to be crunched into this type of position.

When he finally managed to get comfortable - well, as comfortable as he could get - Dave looked at Trish again. His heart broke as he watched a tear slip from her eye and trickle down her cheek. He couldn't figure out why he felt so terrible. Sure, he was a sucker for any woman who shed a tear, but he was feeling even more sympathetic than normal.

Deciding that he could take it no longer, he stood, grimacing as his constricted muscles were given the chance to stretch out. He stepped up to her, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Trish, are you okay?" he asked her.

She jumped, either at the touch of his or the sound of his deep voice. He glanced into her brown eyes, which seemed surprised to see him. Her jaw slipped open a bit like she was going to speak, but the blonde diva held her tongue. Shaking her head furiously, Trish blinked her tears away.

"What do you want?" she shot venomously, glaring at him with a most unwelcoming stare.

Cautiously removing his hand from her shoulder, Dave took a step back.

"I saw you crying, and I couldn't help myself," he explained. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright."

"Oh," she replied with a bit of a snort, "I wasn't aware that you liked to play knight in shining armor. You're going to have to find a new damsel in distress, because I don't need you."

"Trish, I just..."

"Really, Batista, why are you here? Trying ot recruit a new member for Evolution?" she quipped, a smirk grazing her lips.

It was Dave's turn to snort. He wouldn't drag anyone into that mess of a group. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head... she wasn't the easiest to talk to.

"Hey, I saw you and you looked upset. As far as I'm concerned, this company is family, and when I see a member of that family upset, I get worried. Which is what happened here, and which is why I decided to ask," he defended himself.

"Some family," Trish said dryly. Then, after a long pause, she finished with, "Shouldn't you be off beating people up for their lunch money or something like that?"

Shaking his head, Batista sighed.

"I give up," he resigned, throwing his hands up in retreat. He started to walk away, and then he turned back to call over his shoulder. "I know it's cliche, but you really shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, Trish."

As he left her standing there, Trish looked on after him. His statement stayed fresh in her mind, and she found herself even more intrigued by that man that ever before.

-

"I don't like this idea, Randy," Stacy said, staring up at her boyfriend with a look of deep concern.

From where he was seated next to her, Randy Orton threw an arm around her, shaking his head. He wished she wouldn't worry so much.

"Come on, Stace, we've had this discussion a million times before. You know this match is a huge opportunity for me. If I beat Batista tonight, I get a shot at the World Title. You know how much that means to me," he said, gazing over at Stacy.

"I know that," she said uneasily, "I just wish you didn't have to fight Dave to get there."

Randy shook his head.

"Babe, no matter how much you try and repair this, Dave and I aren't best friends anymore," he told her.

Stacy frowned. If there was one thing about Randy that she disliked, it was his inability to forgive those who had wronged him in the past. She agreed that what Dave and the others did when they booted him from Evolution was inexcusable. But just like with Trish, she had a hunch that Dave really was a good man. He was just stuck with those pathetic excuses for men, Ric Flair and Triple H.

"He's not like them," she said, following a pause. "You can see it in his eyes that he's not happy. He wants to break away..."

"Yeah, and that's just it, Stacy... he doesn't break away. He's had the opportunity, not to mention the motivation, for weeks now, and yet he's still a member of Evolution. And as far as I'm concerned, that makes him one of my biggest enemies," Randy replied.

He knew how much Stacy wanted him to forgive Dave, and part of him thought he could, if Dave could just admit that he was wrong. But he certainly wasn't going to try beating an apology out of him, either. His main focus, his only focus for the the evening was becoming the number one contender for the World Heavyweight Championship.

He guessed by Stacy's silence that his comment had begun to sink in on her. He tilted his head toward her, observing a very thoughtful look on her pretty face. He sighed... she thought about these things way too much.

"I'm worried about you," Stacy voiced, turning her head to lock eyes with him.

Randy smiled, laughing softly as he pressed a tiny kiss to her cheek.

"You always worry about me," he reminded her. "Actually, when you make that concerned face, it's kinda cute."

Stacy smiled, but then shook her head.

"Randy..." she warned, letting him know that she was not kidding around. This was a very serious matter.

"Okay, okay..." he began, grabbing her hand, "I promise I'll be careful."

Not convinced by his statement, Stacy protested, "I wish you would let me go out there with you. I'd feel a lot better if I was by your side."

"Absolutely not," Randy said immediately, shaking his head firmly. "No way in hell, Stace. I don't want you at ringside for any of my matches, especially not if I win tonight."

"I won't get involved at all," Stacy insisted, her brown eyes pleading with him. "I won't be a distraction. You won't even know I'm there."

Sighing again, Randy shook his head, momentarily covering his eyes with his hands.

"It's not about me, Stacy," he assured her. "I might not know you're there, but they will. Somehow, Hunter and Ric don't know about us... and I want it to stay that way for now. If they find out we're together, they'll be gunning for you. I will not let them use you to get to me."

Stacy's expression grew solemn. Triple H and Flair were opportunists, and there was no doubt in her mind that they would use her relationship with Randy to their fullest advantage. With a shrug, she tucked herself into Randy's arms, sighing against his chest.

"You're right," she gave in, closing her eyes.


	4. Part 4

**Part Four**

"Mol, can I ask you a question?" Trish spoke, breaking the silence that had previously filled the locker room. 

Molly glanced over at her friend, immediately dropping the magazine she was reading. Trish had been such a recluse lately, she'd take any opportunity she had to talk.

"Sure Trish, what's up?"

"This might sound a little odd, but what do you think of Batista?" Trish asked.

Molly laughed for a split second, till Trish's expression told her she was not kidding. Why, of all people, would she ask about Batista?

"Honestly? I feel bad for the guy," she replied. "I mean, he's stuck with Triple H and Ric Flair, and they obviously use him for his strength."

"Yeah," Trish agreed. Molly's response was almost identical to her own thoughts.

"What's worse," Molly continued, "is that I think he knows that they use him. He knows they're holding him back, and he can't do a thing about it because they made him."

Trish frowned. All this time, she had seen Dave the way Evolution had portrayed him: a cold, unthinking, unfeeling neanderthal. The past two encounters she had with him certainily proved otherwise. Could it be that she had him all wrong?

"I saw him in the hallway the other day," Trish began, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "He caught me in the worst mood, and he was so sweet to me. He asked if I was alright, said he couldn't help but stop to make sure I was okay."

Molly nodded, "I knew it. I knew he was different. I knew from the night they kicked Randy out of Evolution that he was different. He didn't have the same look in his eyes."

"I'm starting to believe that myself," Trish said, thinking of Batista's attitude as of late. "He hasn't seemed very happy lately."

The women fell into silence, and Trish's gaze dropped to the floor. There was something about him that had her so intrigued. She had barely spoken two words to him before a few weeks ago, and she found herself increasingly curious. She actually wanted to get to know him.

"I was so rude to him the other day," Trish observed, drawing her gaze back up to her brunette friend. "He really went out of his way to see if I was alright, and I was a total bitch."

"So go talk to him and apologize," Molly suggested. "Who knows, maybe it'll spark a conversation, and who knows where that could lead."

The blonde haired diva remained still, pursing her lips together. It wasn't a bad idea.

"Okay," she agreed with a firm nod. "I'll go talk to him. Thanks, Mol."

As Trish rose from her seat, Molly remembered that there was something she needed to tell her. It was a topic that she thought about constantly in recent weeks, but she couldn't find the right words. She had no idea how Trish would react.

"Trish, wait," she called just as she had reached the door. "I need to tell you something."

Pausing at the door, Trish turned back to her friend. She placed a hand on her hip, eyeing Molly expectantly. Feeling herself chickening out, Molly frowned. Talking herself out of it, she shook her head, forcing a smile.

"It can wait... go talk to Dave."

After taking Molly's advice to go and apologize to Dave, Trish stood by the door to Evolution's locker room. She was a little nervous to knock on the door, so she decided to hang around in the area until Dave emerged. It was childish, but she really didn't feel like dealing with the other members of Evolution.

While standing there, she picked up traces of Triple H's voice, and he was obviously lecturing Dave again. The discussion peaked her interest, and she leaned a little towards the door, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. From what she heard, Triple H was attempting to talk Dave out of participating in the Royal Rumble match at the upcoming pay-per-view. Eric Bischoff had already given him the opportunity to qualify for a spot in a match the following week.

Trish rolled her eyes... it was so typical of the champion, once again trying to talk himself out of defending his title. It was really pathetic. Granted, she hadn't always honorably defended her title in the past, but she never turned down a challenge.

A pang of sympathy hit her heart for Dave as Hunter continued his tirade. The Game sure loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He compared Dave to Randy Orton, claiming his interest in the World Heavyweight Championship was selfish. Then, for the first time since she'd approached, Dave got the chance to speak.

"You know what Hunter, you're right," Dave said, though his tone said otherwise. "No one likes a selfish, self-centered egomaniac."

Trish's jaw dropped at what she knew was a blatant attack on Triple H. A small smile played on her lips as he stood up for himself. She could hear heavy footsteps coming towards the door. However, it swung open so fast she didn't get a chance to move out of the way. As Dave stormed out of the room, the door barrelled into Trish, knocking her off balance. She groaned, and once he noticed what he had done, he approached her.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said, a sincere look of concern in his eyes. "I didn't see you there."

Shaking off the impact of the blow, Trish grabbed Dave's forearm to steady herself.

"It's alright," she said, shaking her head. "I really shouldn't have been standing here, anyway."

The hard expression left on Batista's face by his talk with Triple H and Ric Flair softened. He ran his hand up Trish's arm, unable to ignore the softness of her skin.

"No, no, I threw that door open way too fast. Anyone could have been there..."

"I'm fine," she insisted with a laugh. Then, as his hand brushed her arm again, her breath caught in her throat. "But I'm glad I caught you, Dave, because I wanted to talk to you."

Guiding her away from the door, Dave nodded.

"Okay, shoot," he told her, leaning against the wall.

"I... I wanted to apologize, for the way I acted last time I saw you," she admitted, glancing down. "I really do appreciate your concern, I was just in a terrible mood."

"Hey, I understand the feeling," he said, shaking his head. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, I know, but I still feel terrible," Trish said. "Let me make it up to you. If you're not doing anything, maybe we could go get something to eat, my treat."

Dave smiled at her offer. He certainly had her read wrong.

"You don't have to do that," he said, laughing softly.

"No, I insist," Trish pressed, looking up at him. "I was hoping we could continue talking..."

Dave raised an eyebrow at her. He had been looking for the opportunity to really talk to her, and she had practically handed it to him.

"You know what, Trish? I'd love to."


	5. Part 5

**Part Five**  
Dave led Trish down an aisle of the small diner they had gone to after the show. The spot they chose was relatively far from where everyone was staying, so he didn't expect to run into any of his fellow Superstars there. At this point, he really didn't care if people saw Trish with him. He was far past worrying over the approval of Evolution. He was more concerned with someone seeing him with her. God only knew what Triple H and Ric Flair would do to Trish if they discovered the two of them were associating. 

Just a precautious measure, Dave tossed his gaze around the nearly empty diner. When they reached their booth, Dave stepped back and gestured for her to have a seat. He slid in across from her, grimacing when his knees bumped the bottom of the table.

When a waitress approached them, both ordered a small coffee, and then they got to talking. It wasn't long before Trish opened the discussion up to Dave's involvement with Evolution.

"Why are you with those guys?" she asked rather abruptly. Dave simply arched his brow at her, so she continued. "It's obvious that you aren't like them, and they've hardly supported you lately... so why are you still there?"

The best he could offer in response was a shrug.

"I can't just _leave_, Trish. Hunter and Ric, they made me what I am today. I'd still be midcarding on Smackdown if they hadn't recruited me for Evolution. I guess I owe it to them to stay," he said.

Trish watched as Dave folded his hands together, resting them on the table. A frown marred her pretty complexion.

"You can't be happy," she voiced her concern.

Dave scoffed at her remark. He couldn't even remember the last time he smiled. He rested back in his seat - as much as the restricted space would allow him. It struck him as odd that she would mention happiness.

"You know, you haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine, either," he said knowingly. "And yet - just like myself - you do what you have to do. You keep on going."

Trish shook her head emphatically. Their scenarios were nowhere near the same.

"That's different, Dave," she said, her eyes darting away.

"How is it?" Dave questioned, though his tone was not in the least bit harsh. If anything, it sounded sorrowful. "Both of us are in situations that force us to be someone we're not, and both of us have to do things we genuinely don't want to do, just in order to keep up a facade. What's the difference?"

Trish sighed, placing her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. Sure, their situations had similarities. But there was one crucial thing that distinguished hers from his, and it was something she was hardly proud of.

"There's a huge difference," she said to him with a heavy exhale. "I'm not being forced to do anything. My career rests in no one else's hands but my own, and yet I act like this. I was so blinded by my obsession with being champion that I let myself turn into a monster. I don't have Evolution, or anyone, to blame."

"That's not true," Dave assured her, leaning forward just a bit. "There were plenty of elements in your life that influenced your behavior. Christian, Tomko, all their buddies... they all played their part. They convinced you that you were someone entirely different than how you are."

"It's inexcusable," she disagreed, lifting her head. "They only fueled the fire... I started it on my own. At least you can say your career depends on it."

"Trish, you can't honestly believe..."

"Hey, lets face facts," she said, cutting him off. "I brought every last ounce of this on myself, and now I don't know what the hell to do. I've got nothing left, and it's frightening."

Dave frowned as he studied the beautiful blonde closely. She looked so lost, so distraught. When she looked him, he felt as though he was looking right in a mirror. He saw so much of himself in her. The look in her desperate eyes matched his own feeling exactly.

He reached over to her, taking her tiny hand in his own. He surprised her with his gentle touch, and an even softer smile.

"I'll help you, Trish," he said genuinely. "In fact, maybe we can help each other."

* * *

-A week later  
Stacy managed to get herself into quite the predicament. All she had done was come out to the ring to help honor JR in what had been declared by the Oklahomans as Jim Ross Day. Now, she found herself staring down at the mat, praying that Triple H would not have the heart to give her the Pedigree... she didn't envision that happening any time soon.

JR had tried his best to bail her out, but to no avail. Evolution gave no one mercy. Even Danny Hodge, the three-time NCAA wrestling champion, tried to save her, but his efforts were futile. Flair and Triple H had rid the ring of everyone but Stacy, and now she was screwed.

She struggled against his grip, moving frantically around. How could this happen? Someone told Hunter and Ric about her relationship with Randy. She had no idea who could have told them, but they knew, and they hadn't wasted a moment before they exploited it.

Stacy winced as Triple H held her hands behind her back. If the Pedigree could put the most talented of wrestlers down for the three count, she could only imagine what it would do to her. She shuddered at the thought of what had gotten her into this position. That disgusting Triple H wanted a kiss. She would never kiss that lecherous excuse for a man. She'd rather be Pedigreed.

A sudden burst of applause gave her the hope that she wouldn't have to. Sure enough, only a moment later, Triple H's grip on her disappeared, and the champion went flying. Stacy fell to the mat, and by the time she gathered her bearings, Triple H and Flair were escaping up the ramp. She narrowed her eyes at him, and at his no-good lackey.

She tilted her head back and saw her boyfriend, his blue eyes filled with distress. He stared holes into his former mentors until they disappeared, and then shifted his gaze to her. He made sure she was okay, and helped her up. On their way up the ramp, Stacy noticed how distracted he looked.

"Randy, it's okay," she insisted, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm fine."

He nodded, but he didn't look comforted in the least.

"Someone told them about us," he said as they stepped through the curtain. "And when I find out who it was, I'm going to murder them."

Stacy frowned, pursing her lips together. She knew he was going to react this way.

"Look, I know you're angry, but please don't do anything drastic," she pleaded, trying her best to calm him. "They found out... it happened, and we're both fine."

"Yeah, for now," Randy snorted. "Come on, Stace, do you really think it's going to stop? I have a title match against Hunter this Sunday at the Rumble. They aren't going to stop tormenting us till then, and if I win, it'll get even worse."

Stacy remained silent as Randy wrapped a frustrated arm around her shoulder. It was no use arguing... he was right.

The pair continued on down the hallway, until Randy stopped abruptly. He froze and his eyes turned cold, narrowing down the hall. Stacy sent him a questioning look, tugging at his arm.

"What is it?"

"I think I just figured out who told Hunter and Ric," he said.

A dangerous gleam flashed through his eyes, and Stacy followed his gaze. Her eyes widened just a bit as she glanced down the hall and saw Dave Batista.


	6. Part 6

**Part 6**  
Dave headed for the door of Evolution's locker room, a look of disgust etched on his face. He couldn't believe those two men he called leaders. 

First, Triple H had bragged to him about scaring Stacy Keibler. Tiny, little, 110 pound Stacy Keibler. Then, when Dave asked them what happened when Randy Orton interfered, they changed the topic of discussion. They were cowards. Even with the odds in their favor, they ran away.

The more he thought about it, the more his discussion with Trish a week earlier made sense. He heard the blonde woman's voice in his head, questioning him over and over again as to why he was still a member of Evolution. He was beginning to wonder that himself.

What aggravated him the most was that he couldn't put a finger on what compelled him to stay. He couldn't stand being part of the 'Triple H Club,' and he had the sinking feeling that Hunter and Ric were talking shit on him every time he left the room.

And yet he remained; fighting beside them, doing their dirty work for them, embracing the name of the 'Animal' of Evolution. He sure felt like an animal... some type of caged lion, dying to break free.

Dave sighed as he stepped out of the locker room, closing the door behind him. He got maybe two steps from the door, when he smacked into someone. He glanced down and found himself nose to nose with Randy Orton.

The two men hadn't spoken a word to each other since... well, since Randy had been unceremoniously booted from Evolution. They went from being the absolute best of friends, to nothing. No teaming up, no hanging out, no talking... not even a hello in the hallway. Dave couldn't blame Randy for being so cold with him. After all, he had betrayed him. It was Dave who hoisted Randy onto his shoulders on the night following his big title win, only to drop him on his head and right out of Evolution. Words couldn't express the feelings of guilt that plagued him for weeks after the attack. He wanted nothing to do with it. If anything, he wanted to congratulate his best friend for his unprecedented accomplishment.

Of course, Triple H had other plans. He insisted Dave start the assault, because doing so would hurt Randy's psyche the worst, making him vulnerable to lose the title to Hunter at the next pay-per-view. He was absolutely right, and Randy hadn't spoken a word to him since. Which was why Dave found it so odd for Randy to be in his face.

"Uh, can I help you?" he asked, eyeing the young man curiously.

Randy simply stared, seething at his former best friend. It took every ounce of his self control not to lunge at Batista and take his head off.

"Not unless you're going to ring your own neck," Randy snapped, his eyes filled with fire.

Dave raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" he asked slowly.

"You heard me," Randy muttered, his voice practically engulfed in a growl. "I really should ring your neck right now, just to get it over with."

As he moved forward, Dave threw his hand up. He placed it on Randy's chest and held him back, eyeing him with a puzzled look.

"Woah, chill out," he said, keeping a good distance between himself and the obviously distraught Superstar. "What's your problem?"

"Don't play that stupid shit," Randy warned, forcing himself forward. "You know your buddies planned on beating up my girlfriend."

Dave sighed. Time to put on the Evolution face. Going against his heart, he smirked.

"Well, in case you didn't noitce, I was not out there," he said in a slightly arrogant tone.

"I know you weren't out there, asshole. Otherwise I would have chased you out of the ring, too," he said. The emotion in his voice caused Dave to lose the smirk. "But Hunter and Ric had to find out somehow..."

"Now wait a minute," Dave cut him off, throwing his hands in the air. He knew exactly where this was headed. "If you're going to insinuate that I told them about you and Stacy, you're dead wrong."

"Who else would have told?" Randy challenged.

"Guess you'll have to ask around," Dave replied passively.

He tore his gaze away, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up the attitude for very long. Randy took a much more aggressive action, grabbing Dave by his forearms and shoving him into the wall.

"Don't play with me," he said through gritted teeth. "You're the only person in the goddamn company that talks to them!"

"They saw you together!" Dave blurted, even though he wasn't supposed to tell. "Last week, they saw you in the hallway with her. If I had known they were plotting something like this, I would have..."

"What, told me?" he laughed ruefully. "You were just as in on it as they were."

"No, I wasn't," Dave said truthfully. "What do I have to gain from hurting you?"

Randy shrugged, "What did you have to gain in August?"

Dave's stomach dropped at the mention of that particular Raw. He still felt pangs of guilt every now and then for what he had done.

He and Randy came into the business together, and together they had become the future of Evolution. In a few short years, they had become like brothers. And Dave threw all of it away, all because Triple H barked an order at him. No wonder people thought he was nothing but Hunter's pet.

"Randy, you know I never wanted anything to do with that," he said, lowering his head in shame. "I had no choice."

"Please," Randy snorted. "You're six-and-a-half feet tall, and you weigh over 300 pounds. Don't tell me you didn't have a choice."

"You know what I mean..."

Randy paused, eyeing Dave in silence for a moment. He sighed, backing off of him and allowing him to come off of the wall. He did know what he meant. In fact, if he hadn't been thrown out of Evolution, he'd probably be in Dave's position, taking orders from those two ingrates. There was a part of him that still cared about Dave, and the part that did wanted him to get out. He recalled overhearing Batista speaking to Eric Bischoff not long ago.

"Are you taking the qualifying match for the Rumble?" he asked, all of a sudden.

Dave did a double take. He certainly hadn't expected that to come from Orton.

"Yeah," he said after a brief pause. "Actually, my match is pretty soon. Bischoff's got me taking on La Resistance in a handicapped match for the spot. Why do you ask?"

Randy shrugged, turning his back to him. He slowly began to walk away, pausing only once to turn back to Dave.

"You've got a good mind, Dave," he said. "Please, don't let Hunter keep you from using it."


	7. Part 7

**Part 7**  
Dave shoved the curtain aside, wiping sweat from his brow as he headed to the backstage area. After a grueling match against both Sylvan Grenier and Rob Conway, he had secured a position in the Royal Rumble. A wide grin crossed his face as he pinned both members of La Resistance simultaneously, because he knew he was almost there. His victory over the multiple-time tag team champions was just another step in the direction to his ultimate goal. Though he rarely spoke of it, he had dreamt of it for some time. And now, he was one step closer. 

Nobody knew how badly he wanted to win the World Title. Even back when he and Randy were the best of friends, and told each other everything, he'd kept quiet on the issue. He'd sit and listen as Randy told stories of his aspirations to win the very same title, and - though he said nothing - the exact same thoughts ran through his own mind. He wanted it just as bad.

He rounded a corner, freezing as a blonde whirl collided with him. He laughed, knowing exactly who the blonde whirl was.

"Jesus, woman, watch where you're going," he said playfully, giving her a lighthearted nudge.

"Bite me," she muttered under her breath.

She know that Dave did not deserve to be on the receiving end of her attitude, but at the moment, she didn't care. Her mind was clouded.

"There's that happy attitude I love to see," Dave quipped, trying his best to keep their conversation light. He was in too good of a mood to let her ruin it.

"Dave..." Trish began slowly.

The slight waver in her voice signaled him to glance down at her. He was caught off guard by the moisture that had built in her brown eyes. Jumping slightly, he placed his hands on her arms.

"Trish, what's wrong?" he questioned her, a concerned gaze filling his eyes.

A loud, shaky sigh left her lips as she glanced up at him. She reached out and grabbed his forearms, holding them as though she needed them to support herself.

"I, I didn't think it would bother me so much," she said, shaking her head.

Dave did not understand her cryptic response, so he nodded for her to continue.

"I mean, I knew it'd happen eventually... I just didn't think it would be... and with _her_."

"Trish, what the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

She remained silent, her eyes glazing over as though she was in a trance. He shook her gently, snapping her out of the daze.

"Christian," she breathed. "He's got a new girlfriend."

Dave sunk back a little bit, a frown marring his features. From the few things Trish had said to him about Christian, he suspected that she was not fully over him. Not that she was still in love with him... but it would be a lie to say she didn't obviously miss him. After all, their breakup was not her idea.

Dave sighed, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, offering his arms to her.

Trish placed her hands on his chest, pushing him away. Dave knew she was just distraught, but he couldn't help but feel slightly rejected. He glanced away, waiting for her speak.

"He's with Molly... my best friend Molly. I saw them together," she mouthed in disbelief. "I knew he was going to move on eventually, but with her?"

Dave took a step back, wondering whether Trish had directed her comment to him, or to herself. She took a deep breath, desperately fighting the tears that were begging to fill her eyes. She couldn't let herself cry in front of him.

"Oh, Trish," he said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't know what else to say. He knew how hard it was to witness an old love with a new interest. But to see them with your best friend? Nothing could be more heartwrenching.

She glanced away, and Dave wasn't even sure if she heard him.

"Molly is my best friend," Trish said with despair. "Why would she do this to me... and not even tell me?"

The feelings of loneliness she had struggled with so often as of late rushed back to her, and the tears spilled over her eyelids.

"I have no one," she realized in horror.

Dave stared down at her, a saddened look in his eyes as well. He hadn't seen her look so upset since they first ran into each other weeks ago.

"That's not true," he said sternly. "You have me. Molly might be your best friend, but I'm still your friend. And if you need anything, I'll make it my personal duty as your friend to see that you get it."

He followed his comment with a wink and a reassuring smile, hoping it would rub off on her.

Trish's lips curled up into a half smile as she moved to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hugged him graciously. Dave held her tightly, and this time, she sank into his embrace.

* * *

The Royal Rumble - January 16, 2005  
The noise was ear-shattering. Dave soaked every last bit of it up as he bolted toward the the ring. The applause and cheers did wonders for his morale, which was already extremely pumped up.

So far tonight, everything had gone his way. He had entered at number 28, and he was certainly going to take advantage of the late entry. Not that it mattered. The outcome would be same whether he entered at eight or 28. This was his night.

He stepped through the ropes, staring down the other participants. Though none of them dared to show it outwardly, he knew they were all intimidated by his presence. He didn't blame them one bit.

From the corner of his eye, Dave caught a glimpse of Gene Snitsky, who was lingering by the ropes. A smirk played on his lips as he charged over, blindsiding Snitsky and knocking him right out of the ring.

"One down," he said as he watched him hit the floor.

A moment later, he turned his head, just in time to witness Smackdown superstar John Cena muster up the strength to toss Kane out of the ring. When Cena turned around, he locked eyes with Batista, and he smiled. Dave gave him a knowing nod.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dave saw a head of blonde hair charging towards him. In a flash, he grabbed a hold of Chris Jericho, throwing him right over the top rope. Almost immediately after Jericho hit the floor, all hell broke loose. Dave went on a roll, eliminating wrestlers left and right. He eliminated some men before they could even put a finger on him. He'd be damned if he let anyone ruin his night.

In the middle of all the chaos, a familiar song blared in his ear, and his eyes shifted to the entrance ramp. He pursed his lips together as he saw Ric Flair heading towards the ring, entering at number 30. He made the mistake of turning his back to the action, and the next thing he knew, he felt a swift, hard blow to his back. He dropped down to the mat, clutching the small of his back as he let out a pained groan.

A few moments later, his determination, rage, and will to win teamed up on his pain, easily overpowering it. Next thing he knew, he was back to his feet, eliminating people once more. By the end of the Battle Royal, two men remained: himself, and John Cena. As the two men stared each other down, Dave knew that the silent alliance they had formed was now history.

They started fighting, and before he knew it, he opened his eyes and found himself on the floor... outside the ring. _No, no..._ he thought to himself. _This can't be happening..._

He shook his head, praying that he was just hallucinating. He was still in the ring... he had to be. He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings... he was on the ground.

"Shit!" he cried. This couldn't be real.

Dave glanced up, and he noticed that he wasn't alone on the outside of the ring. Laying on the floor beside him was John Cena. They had both fallen out of the ring. What the hell was going on? By the time they had gotten to their feet, one referee raised Dave's hand in victory. Yes...

His smile faded quickly as another referee raised Cena's hand, signaling that he had actually won the Rumble match. A confused look was etched on the faces of both men as the refs began to argue over who actually won the match. Was it possible to have a draw?

Then, loud music boomed through the arena. All four men standing by the ring glanced to the head of the ramp, as the chairman of the WWE, Vince McMahon, strutted out. He stared down at the ring for a few moments, before letting them know that the match simply could not end this way. He ordered the Rumble to be restarted, and insisted that Cena and Batista to get back in the ring. After his brief announcement, he turned away from the ring and headed back to the locker room area.

Almost immediately as the bell sung to restart the match, John grabbed a hold of Dave, attempting to give him the FU. Using every last ounce of strength left in him, Dave countered the move, slamming Cena to the mat with his signature Batista Bomb. He didn't waste another moment, scooping his opponent up and hurrying to the ropes, throwing him over them and out of the ring.

Dave fell to the mat in relief as the bell sounded again, signaling the end of the match. He had done it...


	8. Part 8

**A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all the support I've gotten for this story so far! I appreciate all the reviews, and you guys are definitely a huge inspiration when it comes to writing this story. Keep it coming!**

Part 8  
Trish inhaled slowly, her breath stopping as she stared at the sign on the door. She reached out in front of her, her hand snapping back to her side the moment she came in contact with the door handle. She couldn't recall a time in recent memory where she had been so nervous. 

"Snap out of it, Stratus," she warned herself.

A focused, determined look washed away the look of uneasiness. She gripped the knob again, forcing herself to remain. Dave had advised her earlier that night to take matters into her own hands. _"Come on now, Trish,"_ he said, giving her that gaze that not only said he knew what to do, but that she knew as well. _"You can talk to me all you want, and I'll never be able to tell you why this happened. You know how to find out."_

He was absolutely right. If she wanted an explanation as to why she saw her best friend kissing her exboyfriend in the hallway, she'd just have to ask Molly herself. That's right, she'd just march right up to the brunette woman and demand an explanation.

...That sounded so much easier than Trish knew it would be.

Sighing heavily, she threw the locker room door open. If she continued to second guess herself, she'd never go through with it. Just as planned, she marched firmly into the room; but before she could point an accusing finger, she froze. A frown crossed her features as Trish recognized the blonde across the room.

"Hi, Trish," Stacy said carefully.

She hadn't spoken to Trish since a few weeks back, when the Canadian diva told her she wasn't ready to talk. She almost wondered if she was ready now, but the morose expression on her face led her to believe otherwise.

"Hey, Stacy," Trish replied, just as cautiously as Stacy had addressed her. "You, uh... you haven't seen Molly around, have you?"

Stacy gave her a shake of the head.

"Nope, I think she left early," she said. "Her bags aren't here anymore."

Stacy glanced down at her magazine, not wanting to see too enthralled by Trish's presence. However, there was something about Trish's exprssion that drew her gaze right back up. The six-time Women's Champion appeared to be a mix of hurt, angry, confused, upset, and nauseaus.

Stacy raised a curious, concerned eyebrow. She placed her magazine down on the table, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Everything alright?" she asked, eyeing Trish intently.

Trish met her eyes, but didn't move a muscle. The silence between the two women grew thick, and Stacy would be lying if she said she wasn't getting a bit nervous. Another minute passed, the room so quiet that Stacy could hear her watch ticking in her ear.

Then, Trish did something that caught her completely off guard. She walked over to her, plopping down right beside her on the couch.

"Stacy, what would you do if you found out that your best friend was with your ex-boyfriend?"

Stacy gazed at her curiously.

"With, as in they're now, as a couple?" she asked.

"Most likely," Trish muttered, releasing another loud sigh.

It didn't take Stacy more than a minute to figure out who Trish was referring to. She wasn't as dumb as she looked. A frown grew on her lips, a genuinely sympathetic look in her eyes.

"You mean Molly and Christian..." she began. Trish nodded. "Oh, Trish, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'd do if I were in that situation."

Trish shrugged, "I figured as much."

Stacy reclined back in her seat, eyeing Trish questioningly. For some reason, she took the slightest bit of offense to the remark.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

"I just meant you don't seem to be the type of person who would experience very much heartache," Trish explained.

She hadn't meant for her comment to be harsh, but it came out that way. She chalked it up to the fact that, after acting that way towards all the divas for the past year, she didn't know how else to be. A part of her was still shocked that she even started talking to the leggy diva.

"That's so far from true," Stacy said, shaking her head. "I go through things, too, Trish. Just because I try to have a positive attitude doesn't mean nothing's wrong with my life. I just try and see the positive in things."

Had Stacy said that to her a month ago, she'd have snickered. But she was undergoing a change, a shift in her character, that almost made her envious. She wished she could have that attitude towards life.

"That doesn't always work," Trish commented. "There are some things positivity can't cure."

"I disagree," Stacy said with a shrug. Not wanting the conversation to die, she continued. "Just look at Batista. He had the worst attitude in the past, and now, he's finally beginning to see the good in things, and look where it's getting him? He's got a title shot."

Trish nodded perceptively, until Stacy's statement clicked in her head.

"Wait, what?" Trish asked, shaking her head aburptly. "Since when did Batista have a title shot?"

"Didn't you see?" Stacy asked. When Trish gave her nothing but a blank stare in response, she knew the answer was no. "Dave won the Royal Rumble a few minutes ago... he's going to Wrestlemania."

Trish's eyes widened. He had actually done it. A sense of pride washed over her, something she hadn't felt in the longest time. Before she realized it, a huge smile spread across her face.

From where she was seated beside her, Stacy too grinned. Something inside her said that Dave very well might have had a lot to do with Trish's change in attitude. She decided that, since Trish had taken the step in initiating conversation with her, she could wait for them to continue talking.

"Why don't you go congratulate him?" she suggested, giving Trish a gentle nudge.

Trish raised an eyebrow at Stacy. She couldn't possibly know about her friendship with Dave. No one did, except for Molly. And even she wasn't totally clued in.

"Why would I..."

"I know, Trish," Stacy said with a knowing smile. "It's not a big deal that you're friends, you know."

Trish considered the statement. She supposed it was true. Who really cared if people knew they were friends? It's not like they were in a relationship and trying to hide it.

"You're right," she said firmly, standing up. "I think I'm going to go congratulate him right now."

"Good," Stacy said. "And I'll talk to you later?"

She sent Trish a hopeful gaze, but it went unnoticed by the other woman, who was already on her way to the door. However, when she reached the door, she turned back, and her nod gave Stacy a glimmer of hope.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The moment Dave stepped behind the curtain, another wave of relief washed over him. He glanced around almost in a daze, still in disbelief at what had happened. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going to win the Rumble. But there was still a sense of shock, a wonderfully surprised feeling. A grin spread widely on his face, and Dave knew it wasn't going anywhere for awhile.

"Hey, big man!" he heard a familiar voice call, turning as he saw Triple H quickly approaching him.

Hunter smugly held the World Title, which he had successfully defended in his match against Randy Orton earlier, over his shoulder. As he approached him, Dave couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the shining piece of gold.

"Hey!" Dave replied, the giddy grin still apparent. "Do you believe this?"

He grabbed Triple H by the arms, shaking him slightly. He didn't care about any of his problems with Hunter at the moment. He was far too elated to be concerned with anything else.

The champ wore a huge grin as well, congratulating his protege with a nod. Still smiling, Dave gazed past Hunter, his eyes searching around.

"Where's Ric?" he asked, the tiniest bit of concern laced in his voice when he realized Flair must have been eliminated from the match.

"Don't worry about Natch," Hunter assured him with a pat on the back. "Just checking in with the trainer for a bump on the head. You know the old man, he'll be just fine."

Dave nodded, and the grin - which had faded only for a second - returned. He jumped up and down, unable to contain his excitement.

"Save the energy," Hunter instructed. "It's time to celebrate!"

Dave laughed, when from the corner of his eye he caught sight of something. Rather, of someone. Down at the end of the corridor stood Trish Stratus, the blonde woman staring in his direction. When he made eye contact with her, she gestured for him to follow, and then disappeared around the corner. Dave knew she didn't want Triple H to see the two of them together.

"I'll meet you there," he said, his gaze softening just a bit. "There's one more thing I have to take care of."

Triple H eyed Batista curiously... it didn't take him more than a second to figure out that this was about a woman. Sending him a knowing smile, he stepped away, nodding in agreement.

"I'll go pick up Ric..." he said, turning away. On his way back to the trainer, he turned back to Dave and called, "But you're buying!"

Shaking his head, Dave laughed and turned away as well. As he made his way in the direction where Trish had gone, he smiled, a contented feeling in his chest. This was the way things used to be in Evolution. He had always known deep down that Hunter would eventually support him.

He continued down the hall, rounding the same corner she had. He glanced around, noticing that she was nowhere to be seen. His brow cocked as he searched around for another minute. No sign of her.

"Trish?" he called, his eyes scanning up and down the hall. "Triiiiiish?"

"There you are!" he heard her voice exclaim.

Trish appeared out of nowhere, flinging herself at him. She threw her arms around Dave's neck, wrapping him in a tight hug. She jumped up into his arms, wrapping her legs around him as she grinned excitedly. Dave laughed, spinning her around in the air before placing her back down on her feet. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but her excitement only heightened his.

"Well, hello to you too," he said with a grin. "Guess you heard about my amazing victory, huh?"

Trish rolled her eyes, "Amazing my ass. From what I heard you almost lost."

A similar smile spread across her face as Dave's faded. He placed a dramatic hand over his heart, feigning being hurt by her comment.

"Touche," he surrendered.

Trish's expression grew serious, and she took his hands in hers.

"In all seriousness, Dave... congratulations," she said wholeheartedly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. "I'm really proud of you."

Dave looked down at her softly, his dark eyes full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Trish. That means a lot to me," he said sincerely.

Trish smiled, "Now, are you going to let me take you out for a drink? I think you deserve a little something after such a long match."

"I'd love to Trish," Dave frowned, "but I'm afraid Hunter and Ric already have something planned for me."

"Oh," she replied, unable to mask her disappointment. "The same guys you said you didn't want to be around."

Dave sighed... he knew this would hit a bad note with her.

"Trish, I'm sorry," he apologized. "But things are going okay between the three of us right now, and I'd like to keep it that way. It'd just be best if I went with them."

She nodded, pursing her lips together. Dave tried to look away, but that pout was too adorable to resist. An idea came to his mind, and he moved his hands up, resting them on her shoulders.

"Tell you what," he said, tilting his gaze down to her. "I'll take you out somewhere tomorrow night. Anywhere you want, just name it. Deal?"

She glanced up at him, sighing quietly. Despite her uneasiness with the situation, she forced a tiny smile.

"Deal."


	9. Part 9

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for the patience! I apologize for taking so long to update, but the end of the school year's coming and the workload is getting a little nuts, lol. I'll try and get the next part up soon! Thanks for the reviews! **

Part 9

"Stace, is any of this really necessary?"

Stacy giggled to herself as she glanced down at Randy, who was pouting and wriggling uncomfortably underneath her. Her face grew slightly serious, and she nodded.

"Yes, Randy, it is necessary," she told him, in a tone that bordered motherly. "You have a concussion, honey."

Randy grimaced at the mention of his injury. Sure, he had pretty much been knocked out, but he didn't forget why. He hadn't forgotten Triple H's quick counter to his attempted DDT. He hadn't forgotten crashing down onto the mat, his head bouncing off the canvas and rattling his brain. And he certainly hadn't forgotten being pinned by Hunter and losing the match.

He sighed as she pressed the ice pack in her head to his forehead, applying the slightest amount of pressure. He didn't think she realized that ice was not the cure-all for a concussion. It made his head wetter, cooler... but not better.

"Come on, babe, my head's numb," he whined, sticking out his bottom lip.

Stacy shook her head, giving him an amused smile as she continued with her task.

"I could've told you that," she remarked playfully.

Rolling his eyes, Randy took the ice from her hand and tossed it to the nightstand beside the bed where they rested. When she reached for it again, he slapped her arm away, shaking his head vehemently. Stacy laughed... what a diva. She sat up from where she rested beside him, hopping into his lap and straddling him.

Randy groaned at the sudden weight put on him, but he adjusted quickly and smiled. He pulled her even close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She pressed her forehead to his, kissing him softly. She didn't want to let him see how worried she was about him. She knew how he'd react.

When their lips parted, she shifted off of him, coming to rest at his side. Her arms snaked around him, and Stacy yawned as she rested her head on his chest.

"I talked to Trish tonight," she said, quietly changing the subject.

Randy sighed, glancing down at her. His girlfriend boasted a proud smile on her face, and she was obviously pleased with the accomplishment. He frowned, sitting up with her still in his arms. It took a moment for the dizziness resulting from his sudden movement to fade, and then he spoke.

"Look, I know you've turned this into your little pet project," he said slowly, "but please, be careful. I don't..."

"This isn't a project, Randy," she said sternly. "I'm serious about this. I really want to help her."

"I don't doubt that, Stace. I'm just not real sure that Trish wants your help," he explained. "She's a dangerous woman, and I don't want you getting into something that you can't handle."

Stacy sighed, shaking her head. She wouldn't dare deny that Trish held physical strength way over her head, but sometimes Randy underestimated her mental strength.

"I'm getting through to her," she replied. "A few weeks ago she wouldn't even say hello, and now she's starting to open up to me. I'm not going to push her away now."

"I just don't understand why you even care," he shrugged, letting go of her to massage his throbbing temples.

Stacy shifted away from him, a hurt look filling her expressive eyes. The cold look in his blue eyes broke her heart. He wasn't always this way.

"You used to care, too," she said, her head dropping between her shoulders.

When she first started talking to Randy, he was the most considerate person she knew. His welcoming personality was, after all, what drew her to him in the first place. His heart had darkened since he left Evolution.

"I still care, Stacy," he told her, wrapping himself around her again. "I'm only saying this because I care about you. I don't want to see you get hurt."

A small grin played on her lips, and Stacy reached up to gently stroke his cheek.

* * *

Trish chewed on her lip, a nervous feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. She kicked her pace up a notch, her hips swaying with each step as she hurried down the hall. The quicker she got to Molly's hotel room, the quicker she could leave. Had she gone out with Dave to celebrate his victory like she planned, this wouldn't even be an issue. If she kept her mind occupied, she didn't even care about Molly seeing Christian. 

But she had instead sat in her hotel room, mindlessly flipping through the television channels to pass time. She couldn't get the couple out of her mind, and so she decided to clear everything up immediately. She would never be able to sleep if she didn't.

The blonde woman had wandered down to the lobby in hopes of getting Molly's room number. Thankfully, the young man working at the desk was more than willing to help out Trish Stratus. It was nice to see that, despite her past actions, there were still some diehard fans of hers out there. Moments later, she found herself standing outside.

Exhaling slowly, Trish narrowed her eyes at the door. Biting back all her precautions. She raised her eyes, breathing steadily as she waited for Molly to answer. She heard the chain lock sliding off, and the door slowly creaked open.

"Hey, how... Trish?"

Trish's stomach dropped straight out of her body. She knew that voice all too well, and it certainly didn't belong to Molly. She opened her eyes and they widened in horror as she found herself face to face not with Molly, but with her ex-boyfriend, Christian.

Christian's face bore a similar stare, his jaw hanging slightly. She was definitely not there to bring room service. A nauseaus feeling churned inside him. He knew this was bound to happen sooner or later... but that didn't mean that he was prepared.

He watched her gaze slip past him, searching for any signs of Molly, whom he knew was sleeping in the bedroom. He guessed that the purse sitting on the table in plainsight was evidence enough. He forced his mouth shut, swallowing hard.

Before he could speak, the anger bubbling inside Trish boiled over. She slapped him hard, so hard that he couldn't bite back a pained groan. He rubbed his cheek soothingly, and judging by the stinging sensation he guessed that a red mark was already forming. Before he could react, she took off down the hall.

Christian didn't hesitate to run after her, and within a few seconds he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze so that she stopped.

"Trish, please, we need to talk," he said.

When she didn't bother to respond, he spun her around, forcing her to face him. Trish took one look at him and rolled her eyes. She struck him again, this time balling her hand into a fist and puching him in the chest. Another groan escaped Christian's lips, and he clutched at his heart as he reached for her again.

"Trish, please!" he pleaded, wincing as he prepared for the next blow. It never came.

"How could you do this to me?" she asked, tearing her arm out of his grasp.

Christian sighed as he glanced over her. He never wanted to hurt her. In fact, the reason why he didn't want Molly to tell her about their relationship was to avoid causing her any more trouble than he already had. It was obviously far too late for that.

"Look, there's no excuse for not telling you, but you have to understand..."

Trish put her hand up, silencing Christian midsentence. Despite how badly she wanted an explanation, a part of her wanted to hear none of it.

"My best friend, Christian," she said through gritted teeth, fighting back the tears dying to be released from her eyes. "All the women in this damn company, and you had to pick my best friend!"

"I didn't pick her, Trish," Christian defended himself. "It just happened."

Trish snorted at him, her gaze slipping away. She knew that she couldn't look at him if she wanted save face. Those tears were sure to spring out if she made eye contact with him.

"If you're using her to get to me for something, Christian, don't," she said bluntly. "Because I swear to God if you hurt her..."

"I'm not trying to get to you for anything!" he cried, taking a step away from her. "Trish, I promise you that I have no bad intentions here..."

"Do you really think your promises mean anything to me, Christian!" Trish yelled back, her voice raising considerably. She watched Christian's eyes dart around, and she knew he was secretly praying that no one heard them arguing. This was just how it had always been. "Besides, if anyone held a grudge with me, it'd be you. What better way to get to me than by dating my best friend?"

"It's not like that all," he voiced in a hushed tone, hoping that she would do the same. "I have nothing against you, Trish... I've never had a grudge. Why are you so paranoid?"

"You made me this way!" she cried, shooting down his hopes for a quiet discussion. "I gave up everything I had to be with you, Christian, and in the end you just turned me into this paranoid bitch!"

Christian winced at her harsh comment, which he knew was completely true. He had been so paranoid during their relationship, he had without a doubt put ideas into her head. But being with Trish gave him a huge wake up call. Sure, he still wasn't the most liked guy backstage, but he was working on it. He was a changed man.

"Trish, I don't think words could ever express how sorry I am for our relationship ending the way it did," he said, cautiously reaching out to her.

Trish eyed his hand in disgust, but didn't shy away from his touch. He placed his hand on her arm, a sincere look of sorrow filling his blue orbs.

"So you show me how sorry you are by dating my best friend, and having her lie to me about it," she spat, though her tone was much less venomous as it had been.

All Christian could do was offer her a shrug, "Can't control who you fall in love with."

"You love her..." Trish breathed.

Her eyes widened, as though she had come to some great realization. She eyed her former lover steadily, her head cocking to the side. She couldn't deny the passion and sincerity in his eyes.

Her head had begun to spin as she continued to eye him over. All of this was such a whirlwind for her. She was still furious at Christian, and just as upset at Molly, for keeping their relationship a secret. But then why did she feel a warm sensation in her heart when Christian said he loved her? Blinking rapidly, she let out a shaky exhale.

She rose her gaze to Christian's, and her ex-boyfriend offered her the tiniest of smiles. It was almost questioning, asking her if she was okay with what he'd said.

"Trish?" he spoke, releasing her arm from his grip. "Please don't be mad at Molly. I'll understand if you don't want to speak to me, but please, don't be mad at her. She's already worried herself sick over what you're reaction would be."

Trish said nothing, just giving Christian a half nod and walking away. She needed to talk to Dave.


	10. Part 10

**A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for the delay in the updating... school's almost done! Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

**Part 10**  
January 31, 2005  
He was dying, he was sure of it. His head was one quick movement away from exploding. And it was his own damn fault. He knew he should have called it quits after that fifth beer. 

Dave moaned, a painful grimace marring his features as he futilely attempted to move. This had to be the worst hangover he had ever experienced. He cracked open one of his eyes, only to clamp it shut again when the brightness blinded him. Damn sun.

He rolled slightly so that he was laying flat on his back. He placed his hands over his face, shielding his eyes from the excessive light seeping through his eyelids. He shifted his fingers upward and massaged his forehead, under the delusion that it might make the aching stop, or at least dull it.

A loud ringing blared in his ears. He couldn't even hear now. With a loud sigh, Dave tossed his arm to the side. His fingers brushed up against soft skin, and he sighed. _Wait a minute._

His skin was definitely not that smooth. Without opening his eyes, he flattened his hand and ran the palm of it down the surface. Definitely not his. He was obviously not alone in the bed. An uneasy feeling turned his stomach, and it was not nausea. If there was a woman in bed with him, he slept with her. And at the moment, he had no clue in hell who she was. He couldn't even remember the party, much less who he left with. Hunter and Ric must have hooked him up with a rat before he left the club. Only problem with that was he didn't sleep with rats, no matter how intoxicated. He never had.

He cracked open the same eye again, letting go of the woman so that he could lift up the sheets covering his body. A small part of him thought he could be hallucinating. He was, after all, completely wasted the night before. Maybe the alcohol hadn't worn off. Sure enough, though, he was completely naked.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, as best as his dry mouth would allow.

He shut his eye again, laughing ruefully as he contemplated who it could be. It was almost a fun challenge for him in his handicapped state... like a little guessing game. It obviously wasn't Stacy or Molly... Victoria hadn't been on the road for the show... he couldn't imagine Kane letting Lita leave his side long enough...

All of a sudden, Dave's eyes shot open, his body springing to alertness. What if it was Trish? He knew she hadn't been at the party, but what if he had met her in the hotel lobby on the way back to his room? In a matter of seconds he had convinced himself that Trish was the one laying beside him, and he panicked. This broke his most cardinal rule: never have sex, especially drunken sex, with a friend.

He turned his head, his stomach growling, though at the moment the idea of food made him gag. When he faced her, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Oh, shit," he spoke to himself.

He very cautiously grabbed a lock of hair belonging to the woman, examining it closely. Red hair. Of all people, he didn't expect in the least bit to discover her in bed with him. Hell, he didn't know if he'd ever even personally spoken to her. He stared down at her, still in complete shock.

Christy Hemme?

Of all the women in the company, he had to choose the winner of the Raw Diva Search. Granted, Christy was a very attractive woman, which he made note of as he stared sleeping her form down... but she was one of the untouchables. Vince placed huge yield signs on a select group of the new divas, and Christy was certainly in the "hands off" category. He was dead if anyone found out.

Dave eyed Christy in silence, doing his best to calculate what was going on, and what he was going to do about it. He glanced around the room, searching for his clothes. A moment later he found them, carelessly balled up on the floor at the end of the bed.

Moving extremely cautiously - both to avoid waking Christy from her slumber and from aggravating his already pounding headache - he rose from the bed. He silently fumbled with his clothes, and once they were on, he bolted out the door. He couldn't believe he let this happen. A terrible feeling rose in his stomach, and he sighed. This was so unlike him. He didn't walk out on women. But at the moment, he had no clue what to do, nor did he know what her reaction would be...

He'd just have to deal with it later.

* * *

Hours later, after Raw had ended, Dave found himself in a small cafe with Trish. She always picked the obscure places. Then again, it was his idea to come to a place like this as opposed to the bar she originally suggested. He didn't want to have anything to do with alcohol for some time. He carefully sipped his coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He placed the cup down on the table, eyeing the blonde woman across from him. An amused smile touched his lips as he watched her use her index finger to draw a picture in the sugar crystals she had spilled on the table.

"Something on your mind?" he inquired, studying her intently.

She usually only acted this way when she was deeply engulfed in another topic. Glancing up at him, Trish bit her lip.

"Just thinking," she said, as usual. "Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

Dave sent her a blank stare, something he had grown accustomed to. For someone who was so candid with her statements towards everyone else, she was certainly very cryptic with him. When his gaze did not alter, Trish went on.

"I mean for your title shot," she explained. "Are you going to stay here and face Hunter? ...Or are you going to Smackdown to face JBL?"

Dave took note of the hopefulness in her eyes when she mentioned staying on Raw, and he sighed emphatically. He had lost track of how many times he had been asked that question in the past day alone. Smackdown's General Manager Teddy Long had already left him a voicemail trying to persuade him to jump ship. Eric Bischoff wasn't far behind in the negotiating, offering Batista a hefty bonus so that a Raw match could headline Wrestlemania 21.

"I really don't know, Trish," he concluded with a shrug. "My heart is here on raw, but sometimes... sometimes I just think I might be better off challenging Bradshaw on Smackdown."

Trish couldn't hide a disappointed frown. Once again, he was letting his loyalty to Evolution cloud his judgement. The Canadian diva opened her mouth to speak, but thoughtfully held her tongue. It really wasn't her place to say anything.

Dave cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Whatever, I have plenty of time to decide," he said. Procrastinating had apparently become one of his fortes.

The pair fell silent again, Dave watching as Trish went back to her sugar artwork. A soft smile curled his lips as he admired her, a strange sensation brewing in his stomach. He placed a hand over his abdomen in awe, wondering what this new, yet oddly comfortable feeling was.

He continued to watch her as her eyes scanned over the menu that was typed onto the paper placemat. His smile faded when a wistful look filled her eyes. She glanced up just long enough for Dave to toss her a questioning stare.

"It's nothing," she insisted, shaking her head. "Molly and I, we used to come here a lot."

Dave nodded, a pang of sympathy for the blonde as recalled her current situation.

"Did you talk to her?" he asked, hoping that Trish had taken his advice.

Her gaze slipped away, and she shook her head.

"I had every intention of doing so," she explained when he sent her a stern look. "Yet somehow I ended up out in the hallway yelling at Christian."

Dave's eyes visibly narrowed at the mention of Trish's former boyfriend. He wasn't quite sure how to react. He thought for sure that she would be fuming, but she actually seemed fairly calm.

"How come you didn't call me?" he asked her, reaching across the table for her hand. "I would have come back to the hotel..."

"It's not a big deal," she said with a shrug. It was almost as though she had come to grips with what had happened, and no longer felt the need to rant to Dave about it. "Not that I'm not angry, but at least I know that he's sincere about his feelings for her."

Dave raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known Christian to be sincere about much of anything. Whenever he involved himself with another person - especially a woman - he had an ulterior motive. In fact, Dave was quick to assume that the only reason Christian got involved with Trish in the first place was to get to Jericho. Even though he hadn't known Trish personally back then, he figured she was too blinded by her feelings for him to see the truth. A harsh, protective look hardened his features.

"He told you that?" he asked, a glare of disbelief in his eyes.

Trish gave him a nod, her gaze still far from his. She could hear the tone in his voice, and it almost made her smile. He was trying to protect her.

"I know what you're thinking, Dave," she spoke after a brief silence, "but don't. I saw it in his eyes... he really loves her. When he talks about her, his eyes light up like... like they used to when he talked about me."

She drew her wistful gaze back to him, and sighed. She was babbling again.

Dave squeezed her hand before releasing it, moving his hand up her arm.

"You'll be okay, Trish," he told her, offering a small smile.

Shaking her head swiftly, Trish snapped out of her daze. No more self pity.

"Oh, I know. I'm fine now," she replied, forcing a smile. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she decided it was time for a subject change. "So, how was the big bash Hunter threw for you?"

Dave's eyes shot open at the mention of the night before. He had almost been able to forget about his night... and his subsequent escapade with Christy Hemme. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm.

"It... it was okay," he stammered. "Nothing special."

Trish raised her brows, studying Dave curiously. He fidgeted nervously around his side of the booth. his face grew pale and he looked nauseaus.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked with a giggle. "What, a night with Triple H not as fun as you thought it'd be?"

Dave looked up at her, taking a quick gulp of his coffee as he suddenly felt parched. The light above their heads all of a sudden felt like it was shining directly on him. He could feel the moisture beginning to form a thin film of sweat on his forehead. What was the matter with him?

"Is it just me or did it get really hot in here?" he asked, fanning himself off.

He glanced around the room, his breathing still a bit uneven. He got this way when he was nervous... but what in hell was he nervous about? Trish was now eyeing him warily, and Dave could only imagine how crazy she must have thought he was acting.

"I'm getting kind of tired," he said suddenly, sending her a desperate look. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Though she was extremely confused, Trish gave him a tentative nod. As she rose from the booth, she noted how cautiously he stood from his seat. By the time they stepped into the parking lot, the silence had already become too much for her. She grabbed him by the forearm, coming to a halt.

"What's up with you?" she asked, worry flashing through her brown eyes. "I ask you about your party and then you start acting insane! Why are you so antsy all of a sudden? Did something happen?"

Dave simply stared at her. He doubted he could speak even if he had something decent to say. The feeling he had this morning when he woke up next to Christy had crept its way back into his stomach, only now he knew why. He couldn't understand it, but somehow sleeping with Christy made him feel as though he was betraying Trish.

No, no... this couldn't be right. Trish would understand; after all, she was only his friend...

Then why did a shiver jolt up his spine when she touched his arm?

He locked eyes with her, and his heart fluttered. The harsh look she was sending him had softened into one almost of concern. He offered her a weak smile, shrugging as he linked his arm with hers. He led her to his car, breathing deeply.

"I'm just not feeling well," he lied. "...maybe I'm coming down with something..."


	11. Part 11

**A/N: As always, I can't thank you all enough for the reviews. You guys truly are my inspiration for writing this story.**

Part 11  
"I saw your girl last night." 

Dave almost didn't look up. When he did, he faced Ric Flair, who was grinning wildly at him. Raising a curious eyebrow, Dave rose from his seat on the couch in Evolution's locker room.

"I wasn't aware I had one," he replied nonchalantly, approaching the older man.

Ric laughed and shook his head, grin still plastered on his face. Dave was so modest and softspoken when it came to his women.

"Oh, come on," he teased, his eyes gleaming. "You and the redhead looked pretty happy together when you left Sunday night."

Dave's stomach fell. Ric was usually too preoccupied with whatever woman he was with to care about who he was hanging around. Did he have to start taking notice now, of all times... of all _people_?

"That was a one time deal," he said matter-of-factly. It killed him to be so nonchalant about this, but Hunter and Ric expected nothing less. "She knows that."

"I don't know about that," Flair replied. "She came looking for you last night."

A loud groan escaped Dave's lips as he fought the urge to smack himself in the forehead. This was exactly what he didn't want to happen. This was why he didn't want to make a habit out of sleeping with random women.

"Well, isn't this just wonderful?" Dave muttered, half under his breath.

Ric picked up on the sarcasm of his snide remark, and he gave him an assuring pat on the back. He had been in Dave's situation many times before. It was nothing more than a temporary nuisance.

"No worries, Big Man," he said with confidence. "This won't even become an issue - Hunter already told her you were probably with someone else."

Ric noticed the definite wariness in Dave's eyes when he alluded to who he was with the night before. His own eyes gleamed as his expression grew inquisitive.

"Who were you with last night?" he asked. "By the time we got back from our match, you were already gone from the building."

Dave did not immediately respond, instead throwing Ric a disbelieving stare. Anytime he didn't go out with the, they assumed he was with a woman. Maybe a new partner every night was okay for them, but that just wasn't his style. In fact, despite what they thought, before Christy it had been months since he even had sex.

"I wasn't with anyone. After the show I grabbed a bite to eat and then went back to my room alone. I was tired," Dave told him.

So it wasn't entirely true... it was in the context of what Ric was looking for.

"Of course you did," Ric replied playfully. "I can take a hint, Tista. No more questions."

Sighing with relief, Dave nodded. He rose from the couch, pacing somewhat nervously back and forth. Ric watched the younger man silently, and a look of almost genuine concern filled his eyes.

"Don't stress yourself out over this," he warned. "Like I said, it's not even as issue."

Dave nodded weakly, returning his gaze to his mentor.

"Just to be safe, keep this to yourself," Dave requested. "If I gets back to management that I slept with a Diva Search girl, I could be in deep shit."

"This gets no further than Evolution," Ric gave his solemn promise.

A relieved sigh again left Dave's lips, only this one was much less convincing than the first. His face had begun to grow pale, and the sweat clung to his forehead. Though he had told Ric to keep his mouth shut so he could avoid trouble with the company, he was even more concerned with Trish finding out. Since last night he had been trying to decipher the strange feelings he was getting around her. So far, he had nothing. Maybe he really was getting sick.

He started towards the door, discovering walking in a straight line to be an impossible task.

"Besides," Ric called after him, "it's not like it would even matter if word got out. You're going to Smackdown to fight JBL anyway..."

The flicker of anger that flashed through Dave's eyes went unnoticed by Flair. He just had to sneak the comment in. Both Ric and Triple H had been not-so-subtly hinting that he should go to Smackdown, for the 'benefit of Evolution'. He knew their excuse was a crock. Yet another issue he was not looking forward to dealing with.

Dave grunted with displeasure, throwing the door open in a huff.

"Sure, Ric... whatever you say."

* * *

Someone was following her. Stacy would be damned to let anyone tell her otherwise. Even though each nervous glance she tossed over her shoulder was met with nothing, she knew someone was there. It wasn't paranoia, she just had a keen sense for this sort of thing. Test, Scott Steiner, and the Dudley Boys all deserved credit for the development of her acute senses... thanks to them, she could always sense someone lurking behind her.

She knew the feeling of cold eyes burning a hole through her back all too well. Though the situation did make her nervous, Stacy remained calm. She was on her way to see Randy anyway. Once she got to him, whomever was so intrigued with her would go away.

She began to hum quietly to herself, acting as though she had no clue what was going on. When the swift, darting motions behind her stopped, Stacy figured she was in the clear. So when a crate full of ring equipment tipped over, its contents crashing to the floor, she couldn't contain a shocked scream.

She couldn't ignore it anymore. The leggy blonde turned slowly, her heart sinking as she locked eyes with Triple H. She should have known...

"What do you want?" she said with a sigh.

Hunter had already beaten the hell out of her boyfriend... wasn't that enough? The World Champion wore his perfected maniacal grin as he slowly approached. With each step Stacy took in retreat, he took two in her direction. It wasn't long before he sealed off any measureable distance between them.

"I just need to you send a message from me, to your boyfriend," he said calmly.

Stacy rolled her eyes emphatically, making sure her annoyed groan was audible to him. Hunter fed off the fear of others, and planned on doing everything in her power not to supply him that.

"Can't you deliver your own messages?" she asked, sending the champion a derogatory look.

The eerie laugh she received in response was enough to weaken her confidence, but Stacy's gaze remained strong even when Hunter pressed up against her.

"I've already given him a concussion," he proudly reminded her. "Do you really want me to deliver the message myself?"

Her hard gaze faltered as she began to feel more threatened by the much larger man's presence. Backing down to Triple H was the last thing she wanted to do, but her pride wasn't worth jeopardizing Randy's safety. With a disheartened sigh, she gave in to his request with a nod.

"What do you want me to tell him?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Just let him know that this thing between him and I, it's done. I've beaten him down plenty of times now, and to be honest he's becoming a bit of a nuisance. Let's just bury this before it gets taken any further," he suggested.

Stacy raised an eyebrow at him. She knew Randy well enough to know that letting go was far out of his reach. He wouldn't bury the issue until he could say he went out on top.

"I don't know if that's going to happen, Hunter," she admitted. "I don't forsee Randy letting things die between you two until he gets back at you for what you did to him."

The slightest hint of a frown touched the lips of Triple H. His disapproval almost made Stacy smile, till she noticed his expression slowly turning to one of fury. His breathing grew rough and heavy as he stared bullets through her. He leaned in closer, and the blonde woman wrinkled her nose in disgust as she felt his hot breath on her face.

"Well then, maybe I should really give him a reason to want to get back at me," he threatened dangerously.

Stacy's eyes widened slightly, as she suddenly had a flashback to a few weeks earlier, when Hunter had her trapped in the ring. Should he decide to get physical with her, things were much different then they had been then. She wasn't in the ring, and Randy had no clue she was even in danger. The chances of him rescuing her from Triple H this time around were slim to none.

"Hunter, come on," she said, her eyes pleading.

The pitiful tone in which she spoke was sad enough to make even the most sadistic of men to consider having mercy. But the moment he saw the fear dance through her brown eyes, he capitalized, just like a shark that picked up the scent of fresh blood. He grinned wildly, grabbing a hold of her tiny wrist. He bent it swiftly, causing a sharp pain to shoot up her arm.

"Ow!" Stacy cried as she tried to fight him off. "Hunter, please, just leave me alone."

"Not a chance, honey," he growled, pushing her into the wall. The cry that escaped her lips as her back hit the wall only made him laugh.

Stacy squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she dreadfully imagined what was heading her way. Her heart was slowly dropping - along with her stomach - as she concluded that she was trapped. No one even knew she was missing. Taking a deep, quick breath, she prepared herself for what was to come.

As if by a miracle, once again, it didn't.

"Hey! Let her go!"

Almost immediately after hearing the angry yell, Triple H released his grip on Stacy. Both individuals shot their glance in the direction of the comment. Both were equally shocked to see who it was.

"Excuse me?" Triple H said with a snort, finding it hard to contain his laughter. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to, sweetheart?"

Stacy's brown eyes continued to widen when, as if unfazed by the burly man's remark, Trish Stratus marched up to him. She boldly wedged herself in between the two, actually mustering up the power to shove the unguarded champion back a few steps. She stared up at him, fire in her dark eyes.

"I'm talking to a man who's going to be real sorry he just called me sweetheart," she snapped, her gaze unwavering. "Now, just leave Stacy be, and we'll pretend this little incident never happened."

As the two stared each other down, Stacy slipped away from the wall. She got to a safe distance from the two, and watched in silence, waiting for the silence to break.

"Since when did you care about her?" Triple H retorted, pointing his finger in Stacy's direction. His sudden movement made Stacy jump. "And since when did I take orders from a woman, especially one like you? I'm the damn champion."

Trish stared at the champion in disgust. He thought being the World Champion gave him the right to push everyone around, including the divas. Well, she was one diva who refused to take his crap. She had taken beatings from men before, and getting one from Triple H was a fine price to pay if she got a shot at him as well.

"Unlike you, Hunter, I actually care about my friends," she said, without missing a beat. She didn't see the grin that spread on Stacy's lips at her comment. "And I think it'd be real smart for you to just leave like I asked."

Amused, Triple H crossed his arms over his chest. "Or what?"

It took Trish a moment to come up with a response, but then a satisfied smirk crossed her features. She had just the thing...

"Ever gotten a Chick Kick to the balls?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

Triple H shook his head, "You wouldn't dare."

Without hesitating, Trish drew her leg back and then threw it forward, making good on her threat. A pained groan emenated from Hunter as he bent down, the pain jolting from his groin to the rest of his body. She smiled, proud and satisfied with her actions.

Trish took advantage of his handicapped state, grabbing Stacy by the arm and making a run for it.


	12. Part 12

**A/N: As always, thanks so much for the reviews. You guys are the best! Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Chapter 12  
**

After a much needed session at the gym, Dave was feeling much better. Not to say he cleared his head by any means, but he was at least able to expel some of his frustrations on the weights. Feeling a bit more energized, he bounded down the hallway towards the locker room. When he was only a few steps from the door, a loud crash emanated from inside. Through the wall he could hear yelling, and though he could not make out the words, he knew it was Triple H doing the ranting.

Dave sighed as he contemplated whether or not he should even enter. He could only imagine what the problem was this time.

After a moment of hesitation, he reached for the handle and stepped inside. He saw Hunter, whose yelling had since downgraded to heavy, angry pants. He saw Ric, who was – as usual – doing his best to calm The Game down. However, neither man acknowledged his presence, so Dave remained as he was. He rested his back against the wall, listening intently.

"All I know is that bitch better hope I don't run into her again," Hunter started again, his eyes gleaming with fury. "'Cause if I do, she'll be hurting a lot worse than I am."

Ric took both of Hunter's arms in his hands, shaking the younger man lightly. He could already see the blood boiling through the champion's veins, and he wanted to cut it off immediately. The last thing he needed was another fruit tray flying.

"Champ, Champ, take it down a notch," he said lightly, hoping his even tone would calm the enraged Hunter down. "Don't let a woman get you this worked up."

Judging by the fire still present in the eyes of Triple H, it was safe to guess that Ric's words had little effect on him.

"It has nothing to do with her being a woman," Hunter spat in response. "Male or female, nobody disrespects me like that! I'm the goddamn champion for Christ's sake…"

"It's not even worth your energy," Ric reasoned. "The entire locker room hates Trish Stratus. Someone will eventually get fed up with her, and she'll get hers."

Hearing her name repeated made Triple H cringe. The nerve of that blonde bimbo, giving him a low blow. He wondered how she would feel if he kicked her around for awhile.

"Yeah, she will get hers… from me," he said dangerously. "I'm going to get my hands on that little skank and show her why I'm the champ."

"Like hell you are."

Both Flair and Hunter jumped, startled by the sound of a third voice interrupting their conversation. Dave was quick to move from his hiding place, thundering past Ric Flair and up to the champion. He had heard enough.

"Excuse me?" Hunter questioned.

A hint of an amused smile curled the corners of his lips. He wasn't sure exactly how much Dave picked up from their conversation, but his statement was surprising regardless.

Dave's expression was far less amused. From the moment Trish's name was uttered he found it increasingly difficult to refrain from lunging onto Hunter. He wasn't sure what Trish did to set him off, but he was sure that he probably deserved it.

"You think you're tough?" he asked frankly. "What's the matter, you can't pick on Stacy Keibler anymore, so you focus on a woman who has nobody to protect her?"

"For your information, Trish butt into my business, therefore _she_ becomes my business," Triple H told him. "Besides, what's gotten you feeling so protective all of a sudden?"

Dave's gaze remained flat.

"Let's just put it this way. You attack Trish, and it becomes my business," he threatened.

Though his comment was harshly serious, Hunter laughed right in Dave's face. His eyes lit up as he tossed a glance at Ric, who also found Dave's statement humorous.

"Got a crush?" Hunter teased as Ric came to stand beside him.

Swallowing his anger as he as he could, Dave turned his back to his leader. It was for the best anyway. He was about one smart-ass comment away from snapping.

"Whatever," he mumbled as he completed his now weekly ritual of storming out of the locker room.

Once he was gone, the smile quickly diminished from Hunter's face. He plopped down on the nearby couch and hugged his championship belt defensively. He wasn't sure why Dave was so quick to defend Trish Stratus, but he was going to have to find out. He could feel his animal slowly slipping away from him. He had to do something, and fast.

* * *

Trish sat silently in the empty locker room, enjoying the privacy. After her brief encounter with Triple H, she had dropped Stacy off at Randy Orton's locker room – the taller blonde's intended destination. Afterwards, she had returned to the locker room to relax before the show.

Her rest was short lived, however, because only minutes later it was interrupted by a knock on the door. Though she was tempted to ignore it, she rose and sauntered over to the door. When she opened it, a slightly disappointed frown touched her glossed lips.

"Stacy hasn't come back yet, Randy," she said to the young man standing before her. "I thought she was still with you."

"She's in my locker room," Randy replied, earning a confused look from the Canadian diva. "I was actually looking for you."

Trish was even more puzzled by his response. Her? What could he possibly want her for?

"Why me?" she asked, perplexed.

"I just wanted to thank you for bailing Stacy out earlier," Randy explained graciously. "I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to her."

"Probably tear Hunter to pieces," she said with a small laugh. "It's no trouble… I couldn't leave her hanging with a guy like him."

A small smile touched her lips at the concern Randy showed for his girlfriend. It must have been nice to have someone to care about that much. She was also pleased with the fact that, for once, she was getting a genuine thank you. It felt good to be appreciated.

"That's just the thing, Trish – you could have. You could've turned your back to it and left her, and you didn't. It takes a lot of guts to stand up to Hunter, and I wanted to personally make sure you knew how grateful both Stacy and myself are for what you did."

He had to admit he was surprised to hear that it was Trish who helped Stacy out of her jam. He still half expected Trish to slam the locker room door in his face. Maybe Stacy was making progress with her after all.

"Trust me, it's not a big deal," Trish insisted. "Somebody had to help her, and I figured I owe her one anyway… I'm glad I could help out."

Randy offered Trish a smile, and yet again she surprised him by returning it. He glanced over his shoulder, nodding hello at some Superstars he saw down the hall. Then he remembered his other motive for coming.

"Look, Trish, I don't think Hunter's going to take you nearly castrating him lightly," he said, and Trish couldn't contain a giggle. "So if you're uncomfortable being alone, you're more than welcome to come hang out with Stacy and me."

Trish smiled at his offer, but politely shook her head. She didn't like to be a burden.

"I'll be fine," she replied. "I can take care of myself."

Though it was the answer Randy expected to receive from her, he didn't argue. He was still in disbelief that their conversation went so far.

"In any case, thanks again for what you did," he repeated, grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently before he stepped away from the door. "If you change your mind, the invitation's always open."

Trish grinned as he walked off, "Thank you, Randy."

Randy heard the door close as he headed back to his own locker room. He had never pictured Trish Stratus to be a personable woman, but she was actually friendly to him. Her entire demeanor was so different from what it used to be.

Maybe Stacy was right. Maybe she _had_ changed.


	13. Part 13

**A/N: As always, this story would be nothing without your support. You guys are the best! I know there's a lot of things going on in this story right now, but trust me, it'll all tie together. Thanks again for the reviews, keep them coming!**

**Part 13**  
The smirk he had long since perfected was boasted proudly on the face of Triple H. It ook him but a matter of days to figure it all out. He had done some detective work, and was positive he knew just how to deal with his problem with Batista.

From the moment Dave had come to defend Trish Stratus, he knew that there was more to the situation than met the eye. He distinctly recalled him questionining about her, and that alone prompted him to dig for information. When he asked several WWE employees if they had ever seen Dave and Trish together, he was genuinely surprised to receive a yes from all of them. In fact, some even went as far as to comment on how into each other the pair seemed while talking.

The news almost made him angry... the man who was supposed to be his protégé had been lying about his whereabouts for weeks. Nobody lied to Triple H. However, finding out only made him smile. Though he was still unsure of the exact nature of their relationship, it was clear enough that Dave cared enough about Trish to keep it a secret from himself and Ric. That meant she was a weakness, and he was definitely going to capitalize.

He finally reached his destination, chuckling softly to himself as he pounded on the door. It swung open only moments later, and he grinned.

"Christy Hemme," he commented as he glanced down at the redhead. "Just the woman I wanted to see."

The Raw Diva Search winner smiled brilliantly, nodding hello to the champion.

"Hey there, Hunter," she drawled, waving her fingers at him. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk," he explained, leaning on the door frame. "Is it okay if I come in?"

Christy nodded, stepping out of the way and gesturing for him to enter. Hunter gladly accepted the invitation, waltzing over to the couch and making himself comfortable.

"I wouldn't normally go behind my good friend's back like this, but in this case, I feel like you have to know," he said, his expression growing serious.

Nothing the sincere look on his face, Christy did the same, frowning as she took a seat beside him.

"What is it?" she asked fearfully.

She wasn't certain of what he was going to say, but she _was_ certain it had to do with Dave. She hadn't been able to track him down since the night she slept with him.

"It's about Dave," he said, confirming her belief. "I know why he's been avoiding you, and I'm afraid it's not good."

Christy could see the concern Hunter displayed for his friend, and worry filled her eyes.

"Okay..." she voiced nervously. "What about Dave?"

Triple H heaved a dramatic sigh, but on the inside he was laughing. She was going to eat this right out of his hands.

"Well, apparently he's been seeing Trish Stratus, behind our backs," he told her, watching her eyes widen. "I guess he knew we wouldn't approve... Trish isn't exactly his type. But anyway, she found out about you two, and lets jjust say she wasn't thrilled."

Christy placed a hand over her mouth, muffling a quiet gasp. Dave never mentioned Trish once when they had talked that night. She didn't know the blonde woman well at all, but she didn't leave the nicest impression.

"What did she say?" she questioned, dropping her hand to her lap.

Hunter frowned, "She went nuts... said she couldn't believe Dave would stoop so low as to sleep with a Diva Search slut. She forbid him to ever speak to you again, or she said she'd make him pay."

He could tell by the fury in her expressive orbs that he hit just the spot. Christy wrinkled her nose in disgust, her fists clenching together. Who the hell did Trish Stratus think she was? The thought of her controlling Batista that way made her blood boil.

"That... _bitch_," she scowled, disdain dripping from her tone. She was absolutely fed up with people disrespecting her. A determined look filled her eyes as she returned her gaze to Hunter. "I'm sick of this. I'm going to make her pay."

It was all Hunter could do to hold back a smile.

"Now Christy..." he said evenly, switching gears to play the voice of reason.

"No," she said fiercely. "I'm sick of being mistreated and talked about. This is the last straw. When I'm through with Trish, she going to wish she never met me."

Giving her a soft pat on the thigh, Hunter rose from the couch and headed for the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder.

"Christy..." he called. "Don't say anything about this to Dave, okay? He's already embarrassed as it is."

The young woman nodded, giving a wave as he stepped out the door.

The second he heard the door click shut, Triple H erupted in laughter. That was way too easy. He ignited a fire in Christy that would no doubt inspire the redhead to drive a wedge between Dave and Trish. He'd let her handle Trish... the rest would be all his own.

* * *

Dave couldn't help but laugh as he watched Trish dancing - as best she could while sitting seatbelted into the passenger seat of his rental car. He had bumped into her on his way out of the hotel, and offered to give her a lift to the arena. She sang along with the radio, her upper body moving along to the beat. He hadn't seen much of this playful side of her, but he had to admit he found it very attractive.

After giving her an amused smile, Dave turned his attention back to the road. He didn't glance back at Trish till her voice faded. He watched as a serious gaze filled her eyes, and she reached for the radio dial, turning it off.

"What's up?" he asked, tilting his head forward to peek over the rims of his sunglasses.

"I was just thinking..." she said slowly.

Dave sighed, "I knew that much, Trish. What are you thinking about?"

"Stacy asked me if I wanted to hang out with her and Randy tonight," she explained. "Funny thing is, I think I want to."

"So then, go," Dave replied pointedly. A smile crossed his face. "It's okay to have friends, you know."

Trish bit her lip thoughtfully as she eyed the man beside her. Now that she knew he was open to the idea of her hanging out with the couple, she felt slightly more comfortable asking him her question.

"Will you come with me?" she asked hopefully, turning her body towards him.

The car came to a halt as Dave slammed his foot down on the brake, and he was silently thankful no one was behind him. He took his sunglasses off and threw them down beside him, sending her a look.

"Are you crazy?" he asked her incredulously. "It's bad enough that I hang around with you, but if work got out that I was with Orton, Hunter would have my head."

"Screw Hunter, I don't care about him," she voiced boldly. "And I know you don't either, otherwise you wouldn't dare drive into an arena with me."

Dave groaned, shaking his head. Trish he could get away with, but Randy? That was a deadly sin in Hunter's book.

"Trish, I just can't," he said firmly. "It's not like Randy would want to be around me anyway."

"Stacy already talked to him about it and he said it was fine," she responded quickly.

Dave smirked, "Well, you just think of everything, don't you?"

She nodded proudly, sending him a cheeky grin.

"I... I don't know..."

"C'mon Dave, please?" Trish said, pouting her lips. "I _need_ you to go with me."

Dave's expression softened when he noticed how adorable she looked. The pouting lips, the pleading eyes... it was too much for him to resist. How could he say no to that face? She widened her eyes just a bit, and he cracked.

"Fine," he gave in, sending her a very unpleasant look. "But I'm not going to like it one bit."

Her pout was quickly replaced by a giddy smile as Trish let out an excited squeal. She unhooked her seatbelt and slid over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. Dave's stomach fluttered when her lips met with his skin and a small smile crept onto his face. She moved her arms to his waist, and he suddenly found it extremely hard to concentrate on the road. The hold she had on him was getting more intense by the day.

"The things I do for you, woman," he muttered, earning a giggle from Trish.

"I'll pay you back someday," she promised.

"Oh yeah?" he asked as he glanced down at her. "Good, make all checks payable to Dave Batista, thank you very much..."

She released her grip on him so that she could smack him on the arm.

"Very funny," she said in a most unamused tone. Then, she burst into laughter, sliding back into her seat.

For what seemed like the millionth time since they pulled out of the hotel parking lot, Dave shook his head. Using his free hand to steer the wheel, he grabbed his sunglasses again, holding them up to his mouth like a microphone.

"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen," he said in a very announcer-like voice. "Trish Stratus has officially lost her mind."

As he pulled the car into the arena parking lot, Trish's cell phone began to ring. She reached for it, glancing at the screen, and her jaw dropped.

"What's the matter?" Dave frowned as he noted how pale she had become in a matter of seconds.

"It... it's Molly," Trish told him in a hushed tone.

She sent Dave a distraught look, shoving the phone in his direction. He shook his head, shoving it right back to her.

"Answer it," he demanded, pointing to the phone as he pulled into a spot.

With a shaky sigh, Trish pressed the call button and placed the phone to her ear. Dave shifted the car into park and turned to watch Trish as she answered Molly's call. Her brief, often one-word lines were not enough to give him even the slightest clue as to what Molly was saying. Trish ended the call only a minute later, looking up at him.

"She wants to talk," she explained, a confused look in her dark eyes.

"Go," Dave instructed.

He had seen Trish worry herself sick over Molly too many times. It was about time one of them swallowed their pride and tried to get a discussion going.

"But Dave," she began uneasily.

"But nothing, Trish," he said firmly. "This is what you've wanted, a chance to talk. Go talk to her."

"...Okay..." she said, bowing her head slightly.

She grabbed the handle, pushing the door open. She placed a foot out on the asphalt, but Dave caught her arm before she got out of the car.

"You'll be fine," he assured her. "If you need me at all, just call me."

Offering him as genuine of a smile as she could manage, Trish nodded a thank you. She stepped out of the car and headed into the building, unsure of what was to come."


	14. Part 14

**A/N: You guys have been wonderful with the reviews for the whole story so far, but I'm really, REALLY interested in your thoughts for this chapter. This is probably the longest chapter of the story, and I want to see if you think it works. Let me know what you think!**

Part 14  
"Molly?" Trish called, her knuckles rapping on the door as she pushed it open. 

Part of her hoped that the brunette had gotten scared and fled the room. That same part of her wanted to run back to Dave's car and hide in their till the show started. However, the logical part of her would not let that happen. It was far too late to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, Trish reminded herself that she could do this. Molly would be doing most of the talking anyway. This would be a piece of cake.

Of course, any confidence Trish had built in herself had vanished the second she saw Molly standing in the back of the room, waiting for her. She exhaled heavily, her limbs already starting to tremble. Whether it was out of anger, grief, or sheer nervousness, she was unsure.

"Trish..." Molly breathed, cutting off the thick mass of tension which filled the room.

Trish sent her a weak nod in response, shifting her gaze away. With a hard swallow, Molly took a step in Trish's direction. She paused for a moment, but then continued to make her way over. She opened her mouth to speak, but an ominous lump formed in the bottom of her throat. She sighed... this was even harder than she'd anticipated.

To Molly's great surprise, Trish looked up at her and took the opportunity to speak.

"I'm not mad at you for being with him," she said, as though she could read the apology that Molly had been rehearsing in her mind. "It's just that you didn't _tell_ me... do you have any how hard it was to find out on my own? To see my best friend with my ex-boyfriend in a hallway making out?"

Molly bit her lip, and Trish could see the remorse in her telling orbs. If those eyes weren't sincere, nothing in the world was.

"Trish, I'm sorry," she said, shifting her gaze away. "I didn't want to tell you _because_ I didn't want to hurt you. It was stupid of me in the end, because you were probably hurt worse than you would have been if I just told you."

Trish nodded in agreement. She could feel her body calming down - the need to keep her knees locked to prevent them from shaking uncontrollably had disappeared. After a brief silence, Molly forced her gaze back to Trish. When it became apparent to her that the blonde woman was not going to speak, she took a deep breath, and continued.

"You might hate me right now, and I can't say I blame you. But please, Trish, don't let my mistake ruin our friendship. You're my best friend, and I don't want to lose you over, of all things, a guy," she said, her eyes moistening a bit. She wasn't much of a crier, but there was no way to mask the emotion behind her words.

Trish hesitated for a minute, her eyes fixed on Molly. Then, without a word, she grabbed the brunette and pulled her into a tight hug. Molly fell into her embrace as a relieved smile crossed her face. She sighed and gave Trish a tight squeeze.

"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, Mol," Trish said to her, pulling back. "I guess I just needed to think things over, but now that I have... well, I support you." Molly gave her an elated smile in response. "But if he hurts you," she continued, her tone growing harsh, "he won't be able to walk, let alone wrestle."

Molly laughed at one she knew was a sincere promise, hugging Trish again. The fact that she had threatened Christian's life did not matter. She had her best friend back.

The two women separated when the locker room door opened, their heads turning to see who it was. Trish raised an eyebrow when Christy Hemme pushed past them in a huff, a sour expression etched on her face.

"Hello, Christy," Molly called, sending Trish a look similar to the one she'd just received.

Christy ignored Molly's greeting, storming up to Trish and getting in her face. She stared bullets into Trish, before the Women's Champion took a step back, sending the redhead an incredulous look.

"Um, can I help you?" she asked.

Molly took a step back to observe, an amused smile teasing her lips as she watched Christy's eyes narrow. What the hell was her problem?

"From now on, if you have a problem with me, you come to me with it," she said through gritted teeth.

Trish almost laughed, she didn't know how else to react. She never told anyone she had a problem with Christy Hemme. Hell, she never told anyone anything about Christy Hemme. She didn't even know her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she replied, a puzzled smile on her face.

"Don't play dumb, though I'm sure it's easy for you," Christy warned, stepping up to her again. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," Trish shot back, her voice growing slightly testy. "But if you wanted to maybe cue me in, that'd be super."

Molly had to bite back a laugh as she watched the two women square off. The saccharine-induced attitude that Trish had mastered was slowly emerging as she stood before the Raw Diva Search winner. She wasn't sure what had gotten into Christy, but she knew Trish would not stand for it. Nobody pushed Trish Stratus around.

"Well, when you want to own up to what you did, you can come find me," she spat bitterly. "Until then, you're wasting my time."

With that, she kicked up her heels and shoved her way through the girls, stomping out of the room.

The second the door closed, Molly nearly doubled over in laughter. Though Trish was a little angry with the strange encounter, she soon succumbed to the giggles as well. The two women shook off Christy's outburst, chalking it up to some serious PMS. Molly tossed one last glance at the door before looking at Trish.

"People in this company sure are weird," she commented.

Trish smiled and nodded, "Uh-huh. Must me something in the water."

* * *

A sigh left Dave's lips as he thought about how much he hated Trish at the moment. Somehow, she had managed to drag him to the club. Okay, so maybe hate was a strong word... he still wasn't happy. Suffice it to say, he was making good on his promise to have a bad time. Trish had taken to the dance floor with Stacy and Randy, leaving him alone by the bar in the back. He took a gulp of his beer, swallowing all the remaining contents of the bottle.

Dave politely refused the bartender's offer to get him another drink. He noticed that he had begun to chug his third beer, and that was definitely a sign to cut off any further alcohol consumption. No more waking up next to a random redhead.

He supposed he should at least attempt to have a decent time... He just had a rough night. Between the video of Big Show calling him out that aired during his match with Maven and the latest pep talk from Ric and Hunter about moving to Smackdown, he had just about had enough. The fact that Eric Bischoff had not the slightest clue where the videos of Big Show and JBL came from only added to his frustrations.

He had practically given in to their request, even telling Ric he'd think about it. He couldn't believe he was appeasing them. This shouldn't have required any thought at all. He knew where he wanted to be.

"On second though, miss," he groaned, catching the barmaid's attention. "I'll have another Bud."

"Make that two, both on me."

Dave tilted his head to the side, his brow raising as Randy took a seat beside him, the younger man reaching in his pocket for some ones before slapping them down on the bar. The woman nodded, turning her back to them as she went for their beers. Dave sent Randy a curious look as the bottles were placed in front of them.

"Thanks," he said tentatively. "You didn't have to..."

"You looked like you need it," Randy said, raising the tip of the bottle to his mouth to take a swig.

"Do I ever," he mumbled awkwardly, shifting his gaze down.

"Stacy found a new playmate," Randy told him, pointing out to the mass of people on the dance floor. "Apparently she likes Trish more than me."

Dave gave him a distant nod, the corner of his lip twisting up in the tiniest of smirks. He ran his fingers down the neck of his bottle before picking it up and taking a long, slow sip. He hated feeling this way. He was in a situation where he could be having a wonderful time, and instead he sat, sulking. He felt like shit.

Randy quickly picked up on the moping. Though he and Dave were no longer best friends, and hadn't spent any time around each other in months, he could still read the big guy like a book. He knew exactly what was up.

"This is really getting to you, isn't it?" he voiced cautiously.

Dave's gaze found his once again, and Randy was met with a shrug.

"What's this?" he played dumb, taking another drink.

He couldn't talk to Randy about this. Randy was still the enemy. But no matter how fiercely he fought it, Dave _wanted_ to talk to Randy. Maybe it was because Randy was ready and willing to listen - and who could relate more to the issue? Maybe it was because he knew Trish would not understand. Maybe it was because after all this time, sitting with Randy was strangely comfortable.

"Come on, Dave," Randy insisted, rolling his eyes. "I saw you eyeing that belt tonight, after Hunter pinned Edge."

It was true. Though he had somewhat unwillingly helped Triple H defeat Edge to keep his title, when he raised Hunter's hand in victory his focus was on one thing. The gold from the World Heavyweight Championship belt still gleamed in his desire-filled eyes.

"I..." Dave hesitated. "I just don't know. I didn't expect this decision to be so damn hard..."

Randy gave him a solemn nod. Despite being kicked out of Evolution, he was loyal to the very end. He knew it was even more so with Dave. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that Hunter was trying to get rid of him. That in itself called for questioning.

"You want to face Hunter for the title, don't you," he said, more as a statement then a question. Dave's jaw hung open like he was going to reply, but before he could, a pair of hands snaked around his head and covered his eyes. Randy grinned as an amused smile curled the corners of Dave's mouth as he placed his own hands atop the ones resting on his face.

Not a moment later, he felt a hand on his own shoulder. Craning his neck, he smiled as Stacy came to rest beside him.

"Hey, baby," he cooed as she tipped into him, grabbing his strong forearm for support. "You feeling all right?"

Her teetering form was evidence enough that she had one too many drinks. She never could hold her liquor well.

"Wonderful," Stacy replied with a giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Don't you wanna dance with me, Ran?"

Randy heaved a slightly amused sigh, wrapping a careful arm around her waist as he stood.

"I'd love to, baby," he said, holding her steady as he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "But just one more song, then I'm taking you home."

The pair then made their way to the dance floor, arm in arm. Meanwhile, Dave removed the hands from around his face, spinning his barstool around.

"Boo!" Trish yelled when he came to face her.

Dave could tell by her giddy expression and by the way she leaned on him that she was not much better off than Stacy. After making up with Molly, he supposed she felt she deserved a good time.

"Finally taking a break to come see me?" he teased, sending her a smirk.

Trish laughed, "Just to tell you to get off your ass!" Another giggle slipped from her lips. "Dance with me."

Their hands folded together and fell in his lap. Dave laughed, but then a tentative gaze filled his eyes. Trish groaned, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

"Let me guess," she quipped, her brow furrowing as she did her best angry Batista impression. She lowered her voice as much as she could manage. "'Leave me alone, woman. My name's Dave Batista and I'm too busy being grumpy to dance with my sweet, loving friend, Trish Stratus.' Am I right?"

Dave simply shook his head at the cheap shot. He'd show her. Rising from his seat, he gave her a defiant stare.

"Let's go, Stratus," he challenged, taking her hand and pulling her along.

It wasn't long till they found Randy and Stacy on the dance floor, but by the time they reached them Trish and Dave knew their presence would go unnoticed. The couple was already attached at the waist and locked at the lips. Rolling his eyes at the romantic display, Dave turned his attention to Trish, who had already begun to move to the music. She grabbed his hands and he too began to move with the beat. Before long, Trish took Dave's hands and put them on her waist, pushing her body closer to his.

His body instantly reacted to their close proximity, and he almost let her go. He couldn't handle being so close to her. Instead, his grip on her hips got even tighter, and he pulled her till her torso was pressed directly against his. He glanced down at her and she licked her pouting lips as her body continued to move against his. Was she _trying_ to torture him?

Trish paid no mind to his expression, losing her inhibitions to the music as she grinded into him. It was all he could to hold back a groan. He could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck as his grip on her grew even tighter. He wrapped his strong arms completely around her slender waist so that any distance between them was closed off. His breathing grew coarse as Trish continued her motions, her hips moving right along with his.

Dave bit down on his lip, hard. At the moment, it took all of his strength not to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her right back to his hotel room. He had never had such intense urges in his life. She was luring the animal out of its cage.

He closed his eyes, but all he saw was their bodies thrashing together, this time in a bed. He could practically see her writing underneath him, gasping for breath as he pushed her over the edge...

This was so wrong.

"Trish," he spoke suddenly, realizing that he could no longer be so close to her.

She pulled his head down to hers, calling over the loud music and into his ear. "Thanks for coming tonight!" she said, before pulling back.

Dave tried to offer her a weak smile, but her eyes cut him short. He stared intensely into her chocolate brown orbs, his expression stone serious. Before he could finish a reply, Trish jolted forward, surprising the living hell out of him by smashing her lips on his. His eyes widened as her soft lips pressed against his, and immediately he let go of her. Trish was obviously drunk... he couldn't take advantage of that. But damn it, if he didn't want to taste her kiss.

Dave fought with all his might, but even he was not strong enough to battle Trish Stratus. The second she managed to slip her tongue into his mouth, he lost control. His hands were back on her, sliding down her back till they rested just above her ass. She threw her arms around his neck as his tongue plunged into her waiting mouth. He kissed her with a fervor he didn't know he had, his lips passionately taking control of hers in the middle of the dance floor.

He could feel her whimper into his mouth, her body falling limp against him, her knees too weak to support her from his dizzying kiss...

Then, she pulled away, holding tightly to him as she continued dancing. The realization of what had taken place crashed down on Dave like a pile of bricks.


	15. Part 15

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I love you guys! And I figured now would be a good time to remind everyone that sadly, I don't own anyone in this story. I would love to though, and if you know of a way I could own them for the $80 I have saved right now, please let me know.**

**Part 15**  
It didn't take long for Trish and Stacy to wear out, and only twenty minutes later, Dave was pulling into the hotel lot. Though he was sure it wouldn't have mattered to them, he was eternally grateful that neither Randy nor Stacy saw the kiss Trish laid on him. He was also grateful they rode in separate cars, as he was sure he would not be able to keep his mouth shut. After finding a parking space close to the door, he wheeled the car in and pulled the keys from the ignition. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Randy leading a still very tipsy Stacy into the hotel lobby. With a heavy exhale, he shifted in his seat, eyeing the sleeping beauty beside him. Trish had passed out only minutes after leaving the club – yet another thing for which Dave was grateful.

He wondered if Trish would even remember what happened when she woke up. He wondered if she would remember pressing her body into his. He wondered if she would remember how thick the sexual tension between them grew to be. He wondered if she'd remember their intense stare down… and their even more intense kiss…

Just thinking about what happened made him hot. Her kiss had been even more mind-blowing then he hoped for, and it was only a kiss. What would it have felt like to…

With a shake of his head, Dave jostled the perverted thoughts from his mind. He had to stop fantasizing about this. Despite the crippling physical attraction he felt towards her, Trish was one of his best and – at the moment, only – friends. He couldn't let the fact that he wanted to touch her more than any woman he'd ever met interfere with their friendship.

"Trish," he said when his body calmed down.

He reached across the car and gave her a gentle nudge, trying to wake her up. Trish let out an inaudible groan, shifting slightly. She raised her head about an inch, only to drop it back onto the headrest. She turned her head away from him, and he frowned.

Dave sat in silence for the next few minutes, occasionally poking her in the ribs in hopes that she would awaken. No such luck. After another minute of tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he gave up. He stuffed the keys into the pocket of his slacks and threw his door open. After quietly pressing his door shut, he made his way around the car and opened hers. He leaned in the passenger side and hovered over her, doing his best to ignore her delicious scent as he unhooked her seatbelt. He effortlessly lifted her body out of the vehicle, using his shoe to shut the door.

Cradling her head between his bicep and collarbone, he carried Trish into the hotel lobby. He tossed a nervous glance around the lobby, which luckily was near empty. It was late even by Hunter and Ric's standards, which Dave hoped eliminated any chances of running into them while he dropped Trish off at her room.

He carefully slid between the elevator doors and pressed the button for their floor. Resting his back against the wall, he closed his eyes. He sighed, and then reopened them, glancing down at the woman in his arms. She was so still… if she wasn't breathing steadily he would have worried.

"Shit," he mumbled as he realized he left her purse in the car. Now he couldn't get in her room.

His arms started to grow weary, and he wasn't sure he could make it all the way back to the car. The elevator doors swung open, and Trish slipped from his grasp. It was only a second before he scooped her in his arms again, but it negated any thoughts of him retrieving her room key. He heaved a sigh and stepped out in the direction opposite her room, heading to his. When he reached the door, he balanced her weight in one arm, fumbling in his pocket for the key with the other.

A few moments later, he stumbled into the room with her, marching straight back to the bedroom. He placed her down on the mattress gently, and then took a step back. He watched over her silently as he contemplated what to do. He could go back down to his car and get her purse, and then carry her back to her room. The more he watched her, though, the worse that idea seemed. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, and he knew he couldn't bear to wake her.

Dave yawned, stretching his arms out as he turned for the closet. He didn't want to disturb her by sending her back to her room. He'd just have to sleep on the couch. He already knew he wouldn't be able to handle sharing the bed with her, not after what happened.

He grabbed the blanket from the top shelf of the closet, tucking it under his arm. He came back to the bed, silently pulling her shoes off and pulling the covers over her body. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

"Sweet dreams, woman."

* * *

Despite the fact that she had probably consumed more alcohol in one night that she had in all her previous 29 years, Trish never felt more alert. Her eyes popped open at 9:15 the next morning, and though hungover, she was completely coherent. Coherent, and in a panic.

Her first thought was that they had sex. Though she was in another world at the time, she vividly remembered kissing Dave, and the sensations she received doing so. She quickly expelled the thought. She knew her body well enough to know that nothing serious happened. The fact that she had awoken fully clothed only further negated her suspicion.

She cocked her head to the side, examining the unoccupied space next to her. The pillow was still fluffed, and the sheets still pressed. She had obviously slept alone. But the large Rolex on the nightstand told her that she was definitely in Dave's room. She had to figure out what happened. She blacked out the second she sat in Dave's car.

Trish rose on the mattress, ignoring her pounding headache as she tossed a confused gaze around the room. She was almost afraid to find Dave. She hadn't the slightest clue of what he would think of her kissing him. He certainly responded favorably, but what if he had acted on impulse like she had? What if he forgot about it already?

Trish was surprised to find herself sincerely hoping that was not the case. Maybe it was the fact that Dave was the first man in a long while to befriend her without trying to sleep with her, or the fact that he was willing to give her a number of chances to form a bond with him. Maybe it was because he wouldn't give up on her no matter how hard she tried to push him away.

Whatever it was, Trish found herself more than a little attracted to him. In a strange way, it reminded her of how things were with Chris Jericho in the beginning. When a man was so kind to her, she found it hard not to fall for them.

But could she really have fallen for Dave?

She had never experienced these feelings toward him till right now, but there was no way she could deny their strength. Maybe she had felt this way all along. Maybe she needed the alcohol and the resulting kiss to force her feelings out.

Trish sighed, raking her nails through her mussed blonde tresses. All these 'maybes' were getting on her nerves. Finally, she swung her legs off the side of the bed, stomping her feet down on the floor. She eyed the bedroom door pensively, wondering if she should hunt him down. After a short mental debate, she stood and headed for the door. She had to know what was going on in his head.

She pulled the door open and scanned the rest of the room. She found Dave a moment later, still in his clothes from the night before, standing in the kitchen area. She approached him, but his back was to her, and Trish noticed that he was on his cell phone. She stopped short of him, sliding back against the wall and out of his visual range. She peered out at him, frowning as a heavy sigh emanated from his lips.

"I just don't know, man," he voiced into the phone with frustration.

He paused, rubbing a stressed hand over the top of his head. Trish could heave a voice talking from the other line, but she couldn't make out who it belonged to.

"I said I don't know… no, she kissed me… yes, she did. I don't know what to make of it… well, how do I know what she was thinking? – She was trashed… I had to carry her into the hotel… yeah, seriously."

Trish bit her lip, a nervous feeling filling her stomach. From the speech he was giving, Dave didn't seem thrilled in the least about the kiss. Suddenly she felt extremely awkward standing in his room. With a frown etched on her disappointed face, she waiting for him to start speaking again. Then she quietly crept out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

* * *

"Was she at least a good kisser?" 

Dave groaned at the question, smacking his forehead. Randy hadn't changed one bit – always wanting the juicy details, no matter how serious the dilemma. But at the moment, he didn't trust anyone else with the secret, and he needed to talk to _someone_.

"I would think with the way you get around, you'd know personally," Dave griped, pulling a chair out from the table and plopping down on it.

"Not like I haven't tried," Randy teased, a hint of amusement in his otherwise tired voice. When Dave simply huffed, he sighed. "Oh, come on, I'm just kidding. Just trying to lighten the mood."

Randy had to admit that he was surprised to get Dave's phone call that morning. But he was not at all surprised to hear that he and Trish had kissed. From what Stacy told him about them, he suspected it wouldn't be long before the pair hooked up.

"You're not helping, Orton," Dave warned. He buried his face in his free hand, sighing again.

"Well, I'm not sure what you're expecting from me," Randy told him. "You know what your feelings are, and you know how to find hers out."

Dave nodded. He had known that all along, he just needed to hear it from someone else. He had to get over his anxiousness and talk to Trish.

"Yeah, yeah," he gave in, tossing his head back. "Alright, thanks Ran."

"Anytime, Big Man," came the response, and the line went dead.

Dave remained still for another minute, gathering his composure. He took a few deep breaths as he stood from the table. A focused look filled his eyes as he marched over to the bedroom. His brow rose curiously as he saw that the door he had closed the night before was open.

He walked into the room, his expression confused. She wasn't in the bed. He walked over to the bathroom and peeked in… no Trish. A frown hit his face as he realized what was happening. She was gone.


	16. Part 16

**A/N: My apologies for once again slacking off where this story is concerned. I just got SO stuck after last chapter on where to go, but I think I've got it all squared away now. Hope you're still with me, thanks for being patient! I'd love to hear what you think!**

**Part 16**  
Trish shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes locked on the floor. She had just concluded telling the events following her kissing Dave, and was waiting for a response from either of the two women beside her. She had been trying her best to ignore the issue, but the more she thought about it, the more it angered her. Not so much that she kissed Dave, but that he let her. And then he had the nerve to say he didn't know what to do? Still, after venting her frustrations to the girls, she started to shift the blame to herself. 

From her left, Stacy breathed a puzzled sigh. The story Trish told did not match up with what Randy told her after he hung up with Dave that morning. According to Randy, Dave already knew that he wanted to pursue Trish. Then again, Randy was dumb sometimes. According to Trish, Dave hadn't the slightest clue how he was feeling. Then again, Trish sometimes jumped to hasty conclusions.

"Something doesn't add up," she said, her eyes focusing on Trish. "I'd bet my salary that Dave has real feelings for you... you must have misunderstood what he was saying."

From Trish's left, Molly cleared her throat.

"Maybe not," she disagreed. "Maybe he's just confused. I mean, you did pull a fast one on him, Trish."

Trish snorted, rolling her eyes at her do-no-wrong best friend's remark.

"Yeah, kinda like the one you pulled on me when you started sleeping with my boyfriend?" Trish snapped bitterly. A scowl grew on her face as she tore her gaze away, focusing on the floor again.

"Hey, you wanted my opinion, and I gave it to you," Molly reminded her. She slid over in her seat, moving away from Trish, her eyes filling with hurt. "You didn't have to go there. I thought that matter was already settled."

Trish instantly regretted her snappy comment when she heard the remorseful tone in which Molly spoke. Her gaze rose from the floor and she placed a hand on Molly's knee, her dark eyes sending a humble apology. Molly gave her a tiny smile, just wide enough to assure her that she would not take the comment to heart.

"Okay, so I caught him off guard," she admitted. "If he was that confused by it he could've stopped me. He knew I was drunk off my ass, and he kissed me anyway."

Molly shrugged, unable to offer a definite response to Trish's statement. She glanced at Stacy, waiting for the leggy blonde's input. Stacy licked her lips, her expression perplexed. Drunk as she was, she clearly recalled watching Dave from her own car as he drove Trish back to the hotel in his. The concern in his eyes paired with the lazy smile that tugged at his lips when he galnced at her sleeping form had to mean _something_.

"I don't know about last night," she began finally, "but I will say this. There is definitely something between you two. You're blind if you can't see your chemistry."

Trish nodded in agreement. Even before the kiss, there was a strong sexual tension between herself and Dave. She noticed him checking her out on several occasions, and would be lying if she said she hadn't peeked herself.

"I guess that..." Trish began to address Stacy's comment, but she stopped abruptly when the door swung open. In barged Hunter, his eyes immediately locked on the Canadian diva. He stood before the three women, regarding each with a smirk, both hands behind his back.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies," he said, directing his words to Stacy and Molly, "I need to have a private chat with Blondie."

Hunter's eyes narrowed when both women remained planted on the couch. Molly simply stared, a blank expression on her unaffected face. Stacy looked too frightened to move, her brown eyes filled with worry.

"Girls, go," Trish instructed, her gaze fixed on Hunter.

It was against her better judgement - the three of them together had a much better chance of handling the champion then she did alone. Then again, she had been thinking mostly with her heart these days. Molly sent her a curious look, and Trish nodded her on. The brunette stood, pulling Stacy along as she made a beeline for the door. Stacy kept her gaze down, trying to avoid eye contact with Hunter at all costs. Unfortunately, he blocked the door once Molly slipped past him. He leaned down to her ear, his face so close to hers that he could feel her shaking.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, sweetheart," he reminded her with a wink, before watching her bolt out the door.

He laughed, but his gaze grew serious when he looked back at Trish. He casually approached the blonde diva, coming to a stop in front of her. He removed his hands from behind him, dropping what was in his hands to her lap. Trish glanced down, immediately recognizing the items... her purse and her shoes from the night before. She must have left them with Dave. She bit her lip, wondering how he would react.

"I hope you had a good time with him last night, Trish," Hunter told her. "Because you won't be seeing much of him from now on."

His response didn't surprise her. After all, it must of stung to find out that his Animal was hannging out with the same girl who Chick Kicked his groin. Still, she showed no signs of fear. And even though he hovered over her, she boldly puffed her chest out, pushing into him.

"What exactly makes you think I'm going to take you seriously?" she challenged with a laugh.

Hunter smiled, that smug grin that she knew meant he was pissed off. He inhaled deeply, leaning down further.

"Do you really have to ask?" he replied. "You've had your fun, now leave the man be. He's the number one contender... he should be focusing on Wrestlemania, not going out with the likes of you."

"The likes of me?" she snorted, "I spend more time with Dave then you do anymore, Champ. Who is it he's not hanging around with?"

Hunter continued to grin, "So you screw a guy once and all of a sudden you guys are spending time together?"

He knew every bit of what he said was flase, but he wanted to play with her. If he knew Trish Stratus like he thought he did, she would be an even easier target than Christy Hemme.

"I didn't screw him," she said, much as he expected. Dave had already sworn that nothing happened.

"Oh? I must be thinking of someone else, then," he said in reply. He almost laughed at the confusion that sprang to her face. He knew at that moment that he'd hit a soft spot.

"What do you mean, someone else?" Trish asked him, her tone much softer than it had previously been.

Hunter took a step back, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked her over.

"You think there aren't other women in Dave's life?" he inquired. She shrugged her shoulders, her expectant eyes locked on him. Hunter smiled at her, "Having problems with Christy Hemme lately?"

Trish's gaze fell, her face puzzled. Dave was seeing Christy? If that was true, it would explain why the redhead snapped at her in the locker room the other day. But what hadn't Dave just mentioned her? What if she was not the only one?

The confusion was soon replaced by hurt, as Trish fell back to the couch and closed her eyes. Hunter's grin widened and he backed away, satisfied in knowing his work here was done.

* * *

He couldn't get her off his mind. From the second he noticed Trish had fled his hotel room that morning, Dave had been thinking about her nonstop. He couldn't imagine why she would leave without talking to him. Maybe she was afraid to talk to him, or embarrassed by her actions. But even so, why would she sneak out? The way she just up and left without a word perplexed him. 

Of course, he did absoultely nothing about it. He didn't hunt her down, didn't call her, didn't corner her and make her talk to him. He didn't even question Hunter when he stormed out of the locker room with Trish's shoes and purse. Instead, Dave moped, sulking around the arena all day. If Trish wanted to talk, she would have come to him, right?

He plopped himself down on an equipment crate some time ago, in the most deserted hallway he could find. He needed to be away from everyone for a little while. He needed to hide from his problems for just a little longer. Dave yawned, resting his head back against the wall and closing his tired eyes. He was drained. All of the pressure, all of the people in his life pulling him in different directions, it was all wearing down on him. He was starting to crack. If Wrestlemania was more than a few weeks away, he'd have put in for a vacation. This was too much for him.

"Dave?" a soft voice called to him, interrupting the slience.

Dave cracked his eyes open, the dark orb lighting up as he noted that it was a female's voice. His eyes - not to mention his stomach - fell when his gaze rested on Christy Hemme. Up until this point, he had done a good job avoiding the redhead. He sent her a weak smile, mouthing a hello. Christy noticed the way the twinkle in his eyes faded when he saw her standing before him. She bit her lip, approaching him carefully.

"Why the long face?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern. "Something wrong?"

Though she wouldn't admit it to him, she hoped Trish was who had Dave so glum. That would certainly make separating them easier. Dave sighed, turning his head away.

"Nothing I can't handle," he replied, his gaze drifting down.

Christy frowned as she watched him pick a piece of lint off of his pants. He wouldn't even look at her. She could sense that he did not want to talk to her, and the notion made her blood boil. What the hell had Trish done to him to make him so afraid to talk to her? She opened her mouth to speak, but Dave cut her off by tossing a hand in the air. He drew his focus back to her, leaning forward in his seat. Since she had finally caught up with him, he figured he owed it to her to explain himself. Time to write one of the wrongs in his life.

"Look, Christy, I know I should have talked to you sooner about this," he began, pausing to take a deep breath. "What happened between us after the Rumble, it was a mistake. We were both drunk, and it just happened. If I led you to believe there was any more to it, then I am truly sorry. This sort of thing is so unlike me."

His eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks flushing a bit. Christy's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips together tightly. One of two things happened here - either Dave really had used her for a one night stand, or Trish had done a damn good job controlling Dave. Either way, she'd been taken advantage of, and that was something she did not take lightly.

As she eyed him in silence, she became more and more convinced that Trish had done this to Dave, made him close up like this. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to talk, but that he was afraid to do so.

"You don't have to let her run your life, Dave," Christy told him. "You're a grown man... there's no reason you should let her push you around."

Dave cocked his head to the side, his forehead creasing curiously. He had no clue where her comment came from, but it confused him to no end. Who was the her Christy was referring to? The only woman in his life at the moment was Trish, and she certainly wasn't pushing him around.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned, sliding away from her as he sent a strange look her way.

A determined flare lit up Christy's eyes as she moved toward him. She would not let Trish win this. She sealed off the space between them, purposely brushing her legs against his. Placing a tiny hand over his enormous bicep, she dragged her nails across his skin.

"I can give you so much more than Trish ever could, Dave," she promised him in a sultry tone.

Dave almost did a double take as he eyed her playing with the hem on the sleeve of his golf shirt. Was she trying to seduce him? Was this how she got him into bed before? And comparing herself to Trish? Nobody could ever be half of what Trish was to him, he was sure of it. He exhaled slowly, wondering how to start. He hated rejecting women, even if he truly wasn't interested.

"Somehow, I doubt it..." he began.

From just down the hall, Trish turned away and pressed her back against the wall. Her eyes squeezed shut painfully tight as she tried to force the image out of her mind. Hunter had been right. She decided to investigate his accusations, and sure enough, she stumbled upon it. Dave and Christy, looking quite close from where she was standing. She placed her hand over her chest, an uncomfortable thumping feeling in her heart.

She wanted to go over there and knock his head off. For lying to her, for keeping secrets from her, for leading her on. She wanted to go and knock that tramp right on her ass, too, but she didn't. Instead, she bit back a sob and turned away. For the second time that day, she walked away unnoticed.


	17. Part 17

**A/N: Hope you're still enjoying the story! Like I've said before, I know there's a ton of things going on right now, but hopefully with this chapter you'll see them starting to tie together. Keep the reviews coming, you guys are my inspiration!  
**  
**Part 17**  
Spending the day with Stacy reminded Molly why she chose not to associate with women other than Trish. She liked Stacy a lot... the blonde woman had certainly been growing on her. But she was _such_ a... well, a girl. The giggling was fine, she could even deal with the hair twisting... but the worrying, and the whining that accompanied it, was where she drew the line. If she heard Stacy utter something about Randy one more time, she was going to beat Orton down herself. She understood Stacy's concern, what with Hunter's threat earlier and the fact that Randy was late following an appearance across town and was not answering his phone. She just wished she did not have to be the one to hear about it.

As soon as Stacy moaned her next, "He should be here by now," Molly got fed up and dragged her out of the locker room. They went on a goose chase trying to hunt him down, finding nothing until Maven informed them that Randy had arrived a half hour earlier and had been in his locker room since.

"His locker room," Molly grumbled as she sped down the hall, trying to keep up with Stacy's long strides. "Of course you didn't think to look there."

Stacy shrugged off Molly's snide remark as she continued to high-tail it. There were more serious issues to worry about. They reached Randy's room and she threw the door open.

"There you are!" she called with a huge sigh of relief when she found him lying down on the floor.

Randy paused in the middle of a crunch, glancing over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Stacy, and he smiled. He sat up on the floor, turning to face her as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His smile soon faded when he saw the distraught look on Stacy's face, and the frustrated one on Molly's as she loomed behind her in the doorway. He rose from the ground when she moved towards him, wrapping his unsuspecting arms around her when she threw herself at him. He sent a surprised look Molly's way, but the brunette only frowned. He gave Stacy a tight squeeze and then pushed her away, his hands resting on her hips.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here?" she demanded, before he could speak. "I was worried sick."

Randy shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't wanna bother you if you were busy, sweetheart. I figured you'd come see me when you had the chance."

Stacy sent him an unsatisfied look. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

"You could've called."

"You're right, and now I guess I should have," he nodded, pulling her closer. "What's gotten into you, baby? Something happen?"

Stacy took Randy's hands in her own, leading him to the couch and sitting down. She looked to the door, but Molly shook her head, remaining where she stood.

"You don't think Hunter's mad about Dave hanging with us last night, do you?" she asked him, playing with his hands.

"You? Not at all. Me? He's probably livid," Randy concluded. Of course Hunter would loathe the idea of Dave going anywhere with him. The remaining members of Evolution were given strict orders not to associate with the ex-member. "Why would you ask that?"

Stacy's gaze dropped to the floor.

"It's just that Hunter, he came to talk to Trish today," she paused, pretending not to notice the way Randy's grip on her hands tightened. "And he kinda made a comment to me… so I just thought…"

"What did he say to you?" Randy snapped, letting go of her hands.

As far as he was concerned, he could fight Hunter till the day he retired and not care. Feuding with him was always interesting, to say the least. But his former leader dragging Stacy into their personal mess was unacceptable.

"Randy, I don't want you to get mad…"

"Tell me what he said!" Randy yelled, so loud that even Molly jumped. He glanced over at Stacy, and her wide eyes made his heart melt. He threw his arm around her shoulder, "I'm sorry, baby. I won't get mad, at least not at you. Just tell me."

Stacy leaned into his protective embrace and stared up at him. She felt so much safer telling the story when she told it from his arms.

"He just said that he hasn't forgotten about me. I don't even know what that means, but he makes me nervous," she explained.

Randy let out an aggravated groan. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his breath out in a hiss. He rose from the couch, his head tilted towards the ceiling.

"What an asshole," he said to himself. "I thought Dave and Trish would occupy him enough. I should've known better."

"What?"

Randy sighed, "He's got this thing with happiness, Stace. If it's not his own, he has to destroy it. Trish makes Dave happy, so Hunter feels he has to sabotage their friendship before it becomes anything more. You make me happy – which is a deadly sin in Hunter's book – so he's going to do the same with our relationship."

"But why?" Stacy asked. "I understand you two hate each other, but he beat you. If you're willing to let it go, why can't he?"

Randy bit his lip, glancing down at his naïve girlfriend. She had a heart of gold… of course she couldn't understand Hunter's blackened soul.

"It's more complicated than that," he said.

Stacy frowned as she watched Randy start pacing back and forth. It was something he only did when he was nervous. She didn't like when he was nervous.

"So, what do we do?" she asked. "I mean, we can't sit around and let him torture us."

The urgency in her tone broke his heart. He came to a halt and kneeled before her, his arms resting on either side of her slender body. Randy placed his hands on her thighs, squeezing them gently.

"I'm so sorry about this," he voiced sincerely. "You don't deserve to be caught up in all this."

Stacy shrugged, placing her hands on his broad, bare shoulders.

"Neither do you," she said softly.

She studied Randy closely, watching his expression turn from apologetic to angry, to sad, and finally, to contemplative. A thoughtful gaze filled his blue eyes, and Stacy patiently awaited a response.

"We need a distraction," he said suddenly, resting back on his heels. "Somebody that I can get a problem with to get Hunter off our backs. If someone else is making us unhappy, then he'll lay off. The job will already be done."

Stacy sent him a crazy look, shaking her head.

"You want to fake a feud," she said in a challenging tone, sliding her hands down his arms. "Who in their right mind will want to do that for us?"

Randy frowned. The truth was, he really didn't know any wrestler that would be willing to fake a feud with him. A defeated look filled his eyes.

"I think I could get you someone."

Randy and Stacy both turned to the door, having forgotten Molly was there. Randy's brow shot up curiously.

"Christian?" Stacy questioned. She was met with a nod. "Would he go for it?"

Molly almost smiled at the desperation she saw in Randy's eyes as he held onto Stacy tightly. The affection shown by the couple was adorable.

"He goes for what I tell him to go for," she replied with a laugh. Then, her face grew serious. "Besides, he'll do anything for love. You'd never guess it, but my Creepy Little Bastard is one hell of a hopeless romantic."

Though Randy was surprised at the revelation, he grinned. With Molly's help, he and Christian could put on quite the display. It would totally knock Hunter off his game. Besides, he wouldn't mind locking up with him in the ring. The guy was extremely talented.

"You really think he'll do it?" he asked her hopefully.

Molly nodded confidently, "Of course. You'll have your hands so full with him and Tomko, Hunter will forget you exist."

Stacy grinned widely, sending her friend a thankful stare. Though she knew Molly's suggested outcome was a little outrageous, it was enough to flush the worry from her.

"You're a lifesaver, Mol," she said graciously.

Randy nodded in agreement. He rose from the floor, stooping down to press a kiss to Stacy's forehead before turning away.

"I'll go ask Bischoff for a match."

* * *

Hunter smiled to himself as he admired his reflection in the World Heavyweight Championship belt. The belt never grew tiring to look at. Once again, things were falling into place. He was sure Christy would drive the final nail into the coffin he had built for Dave and Trish's relationship. With a broken heart, Dave would surely go to Smackdown. Then he and Ric would never have to worry about the big dope again. Then he could go back to messing with Randy and his little girlfriend.

His self admiration was cut short when the door flew open and he heard a growl. Dave locked eyes with him, and Hunter swore he had never seen him so infuriated. After a brief stare down, Dave slammed the door shut so hard that the picture behind the couch where Hunter sat nearly fell off the rattled wall. He remained by the door, for fear that he would rip Hunter's limbs off if he got too close.

"You really can't stand to see anyone happy, huh? You think I don't know what you're trying to pull?" he spat through gritted teeth.

Though he was taken aback by Dave's outburst, Hunter remained calm. He smiled, placing his belt down beside him.

"Now Dave, let's not overreact," he reasoned. "I do want you to be happy, but Trish… she's not the girl to make you happy."

"Oh, and I suppose the Playboy bunny is? I mean, you must feel that way considering the way you sic her on me," Dave snarled, his dark eyes filled with rage. "Trish was the one good thing I had going for me, and you just had to fuck it up."

"The _one_ good thing?" Hunter scoffed, rising from the couch. "You're the number one contender in the main event at Wrestlemania, you ungrateful piece of shit." He moved closer to Dave, who had come to meet him halfway. "You mean to tell me that the blonde bimbo means more to you than realizing your dreams?"

Dave took a step back, his eyes falling to the floor.

"What good is realizing your dream if you can't realize it with the woman you love?" he said rhetorically, his tone considerably quieter than before.

The moment the statement left his mouth, Dave's eyes widened. He knew it all along, from the day he bumped into her in the hallway months before. He was in love with her. He always had been. A small smile touched at his lips.

Hunter didn't see the magic in the realization, and he snorted. He wanted to knock some sense into Dave, but without Ric around, he decided against it.

"Oh great, now you're in love with her? This is too cute." He laughed sardonically, shaking his head. "You do realize that you're nothing but a pawn to her, right? She'll use you as a built-in bodyguard till she finds the next sorry loser who'll protect her. Ask Jericho, ask Christian; they'll tell you. The woman is good for nothing but drama."

Dave shook his head, "With all due respect, you're wrong. You've been wrong about Trish from day one." He took a step away from Hunter and leaned against the door. "Believe it or not, I do know what's best for me, and I'm damn tired of taking orders. So please, stop trying to force my Wrestlemania decision, stop trying to hook me up with Christy, and stop trying to drive a wedge between Trish and me."

Hunter stared pointedly at Dave, his eyes narrowing in distaste. He did not appreciate being talked down to by anyone, especially not his own protégé.

"I think you've done a fine job driving that wedge in yourself," Hunter told him, the familiar smirk etching on his lips.

It was Dave's turn to scowl, but instead of yelling, he allowed his gaze to fall past Hunter. He eyed the Heavyweight title hungrily, its gold gleaming through his dark eyes. His gaze returned to Hunter, who had since backed off and eyed him anxiously.

"If I were you, I'd start proving my loyalty _real_ soon," Dave threatened in a dangerously low tone. He pulled the door open and slipped out, his eyes locked with Hunter's the whole time. "Or I just might decide to stay here on Raw after all."


	18. Part 18

**A/N: It's 2:15 AM and I just finished typing this up, and I just couldn't wait till morning to put it up, LOL. I know there hasn't been much Trish'Dave interaction lately, so I made sure to add it to this chapter. Please keep the reviews coming, I can't tell you how much the response means to me!**

Part 18  
For the next three days, Hunter had gone into a panic. He did not for one second doubt that Dave would make good on his threat to stay on Raw and face him for his title. And if that was the case, he was in deep shit. It wasn't that he couldn't beat Dave. But there was a good chance that he wouldn't. Dave learned everything he knew from him, right down to the crucial in ring psychology he used to outwit his opponents. Dave knew him too well.

Hunter hadn't spoken to Dave since their argument a few days prior. The heavy silence that filled the locker room said more than any words could have. The cold stare he felt sent the message loud and clear. Their friendship was slowly crumbling into nothing. Evolution was falling apart at the seams.

His gaze drifted up as the door swung open. An almost relieved look filled his eyes as an unusually calm Ric strutted over to the couch and sat beside him. He frowned when the relief fell from Hunter's face, and panic settled in again.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to panic?" he questioned in disbelief. "You're starting to piss me off."

Hunter examined Ric closely, shaking his head. The old man was too laid back. Hell, half the reason Dave was given a chance to stray was because Ric did not keep him on a tight enough leash.

"Easy for you to say," he replied, "you don't have a three-hundred pound animal on your ass."

Ric chuckled to himself, reaching behind Hunter to pat him on the back. He worried too much.

"Neither do you. You act like this has never happened before," he replied smoothly. "This is just another passing phase for Dave. Give him a few days to blow off the steam, and he'll come crawling back."

Any other time, Hunter would have agreed and laughed it off. But this was not just another temper tantrum on Dave's part. He had never been threatened by him before, and he would be lying if he said he didn't find it unnerving.

"This isn't like before, Ric. He didn't have anyone else telling him otherwise. He didn't have Orton or Stacy to pal around with, and he didn't have _Trish_," he said with disgust. "She's winning this battle. She's pulling him away from us."

His gaze still calm, Ric let go of Hunter, resting back in his seat.

"We just need a plan. So this Christy thing isn't panning out. What did you expect from a Diva Search girl?" he pointed out. Hunter nodded. Using Christy wasn't the smartest business move he'd ever made. She had no clue how things worked in this business. "Plan B needs to focus only on Dave. Forget Trish, Champ. We have to think of a way to make Tista hate Bradshaw and love you at the same time."

"And how the hell am I gonna do that?" Hunter scoffed, shaking his head.

Could it be that the Cerebral Assassin had gone dry? At the moment, even bad ideas would be welcomed. He had nothing. There had to be a way to prove his loyalty to Dave and make him loathe JBL all in one shot. How had he deceived people before?

Ric stood from the couch, his keys falling from his pocket. Hunter watched as they hit the floor with a clank, and he immediately started laughing. He stood and patted Ric on the back, a wide grin spread across his face.

"I've got it," he said proudly.

* * *

Trish groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut. The ceiling was becoming a bore to stare at. She knew she should get up and do something productive with her day, but she had no motivation whatsoever to move. She hadn't for days… not since she saw Christy with her man.

She snorted… her man. Dave had never been her man, and after all this, he never would be. No man was worth the drama. But Dave was not just some man. He was unlike any man she'd ever met, and she could not deny that she had fallen for him. She placed a stressed hand over her chest, praying that the stinging pain in her heart would go away. Christian made it easy to walk away. With Dave… she wasn't sure she was ever getting over him.

"Wake up, Stratus," Trish recognized Molly's voice. Her eyes popped open, and she watched as Molly approached her, Stacy not far behind.

"Wasn't sleeping, Holly," she replied, shifting over and patting the cushion beside her. Molly plopped down on the couch, while Stacy settled in a nearby armchair. "Just thinking."

"That explains the pained look," Molly teased. She ducked when the pillow previously tucked under Trish's arm was flung at her. She caught it and rested the pillow on her lap, wrapping her arms around it. "We've been looking for you."

"Here I am," she gestured to herself, crossing her left leg over her right. "What have you two been doing?"

"We were gonna ask you the same thing," Stacy said. "You haven't been easy to track down lately."

When Trish responded only with a shrug, Stacy sighed. Something was wrong, she could tell. Instead of pressuring her to talk – which she knew would only make Trish close up even more – she decided to let her in on what would be going on between Randy and Christian.

"Just don't go around the halls asking why they're fighting if we're all friends, ya know?" she concluded a few minutes later.

Trish nodded, but she frowned. She didn't have the heart to tell her friends that their plan would never work. Nothing got past Hunter. She'd learned that firsthand.

"Don't worry about me," she said, her eyes narrowing as a certain bouncy redhead popped into her mind. "I have my own agenda for Monday night."

Stacy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, tossing an expectant look at Trish. Then, she looked over at Molly, whose expression matched hers.

"And those plans would be…?" Molly questioned.

Trish snickered, her dark eyes flooding with anger.

"Lets just say Christy will regret ever shaking her trampy ass in my personal life," she spoke fiercely, her fists clenched tightly. Stacy leaned back a bit, finding the maniacal gleam in Trish's eyes to be more than a little intimidating. "She wants Dave so bad, she can have him. But not till I give her hell first."

Both Molly and Stacy's jaws hung open. Not so much at the threats Trish was barking towards Christy, but at the mention of Dave. It didn't take long for them to tie the strings together.

"Oh, Trish, no," Molly breathed, shaking her head. "You need to talk to him. You don't know what's really going on. At this point, nobody does."

"I know what I saw, Mol," Trish said firmly. "There's nothing for us to discuss."

"Yes there is, Trish," Stacy piped up. She couldn't let her walk away from Dave, not after all they'd already been through.

Trish shook her head, her lips pursed together.

"Trish Stratus, get off your damn ass and go talk to Dave right now," Molly demanded, rising from her seat. "This isn't you. The real Trish does not take this kind of shit sitting down. The real Trish doesn't let wannabes push her around. The real Trish doesn't ever give up." She raised her arm, pointing to the door. "Now, go."

* * *

Despite his labored breathing and the sweat spilling down his face, Dave pushed the speed of the treadmill up another notch, increasing his pace. He wondered out fast he could run before his legs gave out. Eventually he gave up, allowing the mat to roll to a stop before he hopped off. He threw himself down on a free weight bench, laying back on it as he paused to catch his breath. He didn't waste a minute, hoisting the bar over his chest and thrusting it into the air. He had spent so much time at the gym during the past three days, he had actually lost weight.

He knew running away from his problems was no longer working, but he couldn't face them yet. He buried all of his energy into the weights. His heart – not to mention the barbell – nearly dropped when he heard her voice utter the phrase, "Need a spotter?"

Dave dropped the weight back in its resting place, his eyes opening wide as he sat up on the bench. Trish stared down at him, and in a rare moment he saw her hesitate.

"Trish…" was all he could muster. He sent her a dumbfounded look, his mouth gaping as she sent him a nervous smile that made his heart dance.

Trish nodded, taking a step in his direction. She had so many things to say to Dave Batista, all of which had fled her mind. The look he sent her made her heart melt… but then she saw him with Christy, and she hardened.

"I want an explanation," she cut to the chase, placing her hands on his hips. "I think I deserve that much."

Dave sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. Sweat dripped from his nose as he tilted his head down, and he frowned. He definitely wouldn't cool down with her around. His gaze focused on the ground.

"All this happened so fast. One minute I'm fine, and then next you turn my life completely upside down," he told her. He paused, hoping to gather his scattered thoughts. "I… you just caught me so off guard when you…"

"Off guard?" Trish snorted, shaking her head. "Kinda like when I saw you getting cozy with Christy Hemme? You wanna talk about being caught by surprise, Dave, how 'bout me hearing about you and the skank from Hunter?"

Dave groaned, rubbing his hands over the top of his head. He held back a growl, finally lifting his eyes from the floor. He stared directly into her eyes, an intensely determined look in his own.

"I'm not gonna bullshit you, Trish. I slept with her. But it was weeks ago, and it's not something I plan on doing ever again, drunk _or_ sober." Dave glanced at her, wincing as he noted that the look of disbelief was still on her face. He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away, stuffing it into her pocket. "Trish, she means nothing to me. The other night, she told me she could give me so much more than you ever could, and I knew. I knew she was wrong."

Her gaze softened, her brown eyes filling with curiosity. The stern seriousness in his tone was proof enough for her that he was telling the truth. Dave could not look her in the eye and lie to her. He didn't know how.

"What are you saying?" she asked him, biting her lip.

Dave's forehead creased at her question. Did she sound hopeful? He remained silent, rocking back and forth for a minute. Then he slapped his hands on his knees, rising from the bench. Swallowing every nervous butterfly that fluttered through his system, Dave approached her, placing his large hands on her shoulders.

"Know what I learned from this fiasco?" he asked her. She shook her head, and he went on. "I learned that no woman is ever gonna be what you are to me, Trish. The reason I was so confused when you kissed me is because no single kiss has ever done so much to me. I kept brushing my feelings aside because I thought they were physical, and I refused to make you a conquest. But I've realized, Trish, that my feelings are real. _This_ is real."

Trish let her gaze slip away, inhaling deeply. This was everything she wanted to hear him say. She wanted him to admit he felt the same as her, and he did. But the second the smile touched her lips, it quickly faded. She sighed, pulling her hand from her pocket.

"You have to leave Evolution," she said flatly. Dave stared at her, blankly. "Do you want to be with me?" Her question was answered with a nod. "Then you have to leave them."

Dave simply blinked, processing her ultimatum. She wanted to be with him. But he had to quit Evolution? The issue that had plagued the back of his mind for months was shoved right in his face by the tiny Canadian. He opened his mouth, but no noise came out.

"Trish, I don't know if I can do that," he told her slowly. "We've had this discussion before. Does it really matter?"

He reached for her hand again, and this time she gripped his tightly.

"Yes, it matters. I can't be second, Dave, I just can't. And that's exactly what I'll be if you stay with Evolution," she explained, taking his other hand as well. "I refuse to come after Ric… and I will not come after Hunter."

"You wouldn't be," Dave insisted, squeezing her hands gently. "Hunter has nothing to do with you. I love _you_, Trish."

The phrase left his mouth with a heavy breath, and he licked his lips. He let go of her hands and placed his on her waist. His head moved down till his forehead touched hers. Trish's breath caught in her throat when his lips hovered over hers. She closed her eyes, but the second his lips touched hers, they shot open and she pushed him away.

"Dave, I mean it," she said as she watched him wipe traces of her gloss from his lips. "I can't handle this. I'm not asking for a decision this second… but it's gotta happen soon. It's them or me, Dave. The decision is up to you. Until you make up your mind, I think we should just handle our separate business."

She turned to walk away, but Dave caught her arm. His eyes pleaded with her, and Trish looked down, knowing that she was one look into those big eyes away from throwing herself into his arms. She had to do this, for herself, and for him.

"But Trish…"

She shook her head, pulling from his grasp. Once she felt she was at a safe distance, she turned back to Dave.

"It's all up to you…"


	19. Part 19

**A/N: Sorry for the gap in updates, I went away on vacation and didn't get a chance to update before I left. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter! Feedback, as always, is more than welcome!  
**  
**Part19**  
Dave was pretty sure that when kicking Randy Orton out of Evolution, Hunter had made it quite clear that he would never again be welcome in their locker room. Which was why he couldn't mask his surprise when Randy waltzed into the locker room, right in the middle of Raw. He casually strolled through the door, nodding hello to him as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"I have to show you something," he explained, walking over to the nearby television.

Dave slapped his hand away from the monitor, his eyes incredulously staring down Randy. He cocked his head to the side, obviously confused.

"Are you outta your damn mind?" he asked, his brown eyes wide.

Randy laughed, "Probably." He shook his hand from Dave's grasp, turning the power on. He pointed to the screen as they waited for the picture to appear. "Watch this… I got here as fast as I could."

Before checking the screen, Dave's eyes darted to the door. He certainly hoped Hunter and Ric did not show up. They were already in a sour mood upon learning that JBL would be coming to the building during the show. He exhaled steadily, his eyes fixing on the television screen.

He saw Trish in the ring – fire in her eyes and a mic in her hand. He frowned as he heard her rant and rave about Christy Hemme, his grimace deepening when she mentioned the redhead stealing her spotlight. Both he and Randy knew Trish could care less about Christy's temporary glimpse of limelight. She was simply feeding the fans; giving them the bitchy Trish they loved to hate. But the raw emotion in her eyes and voice were far from doctored. Her true hatred for Christy seemed through her phony speech about fame. This wasn't about a Playboy cover. This was about Dave.

Randy watched Dave's expression fall when, as expected, Christy danced down to the ring to answer Trish's trash-talking. Laughter filled his blue eyes as he watched Trish mock the Diva Search winner's trademark dance, his lips spreading wide into a smile. Dave did not seem quite as amused, his lips pursing together tightly. His face grew stressed as the two girls exchanged verbal blows. He sighed when Christy called Trish a slut, only to receive one hell of a slap from the blonde woman. Randy hollered as Christy nearly doubled over, his face brightening.

"Shit, did you see that!" he cried, proudly pointing to the screen. "She almost knocked her right on her…" Randy's voice faded when Dave turned the monitor off.

The larger man walked over to the couch, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. He exhaled loudly, his shoulders heaving.

"This is all my fault," he said, running a frustrated hand through his short hair. "They hate each other because of me."

Randy frowned, and he walked over and took a seat across from Dave. He would not deny his assumption. Trish and Christy would probably have never crossed paths had Dave not involved himself with both of them.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Trish'll have no trouble taking care of Christy. I wouldn't worry about that too much," he told him. "She can take care of her problems."

Dave's ears perked up at the mention of problems. He turned to Randy, eyeing him curiously.

"Speaking of problems… what was that with you and Christian earlier?" he asked. "I thought Molly and Stacy were cool with each other."

"They are," Randy nodded.

Dave raised an eyebrow. If Stacy and Molly got along, there was not much of a chance that Randy and Christian would be _allowed_ to fight.

"So why are you bitter enemies all of a sudden?" he questioned.

Randy glanced at the door, making sure the coast was clear before he spoke. He explained their motives for fighting and how Christian was being used as a decoy to keep Hunter off their backs. Dave stared for a moment, and then sent Randy an uneasy look.

"You don't actually think that'll…"

"I know, I know," Randy cut him off, putting his hand up. "It's a temporary solution to a permanent problem. I know that. But at this point, I'm willing to take temporary. It's for Stacy, really. She's scared enough as it is."

Dave nodded, sympathy hitting his heart for the young diva. Hunter's obsession with the couple had hardly gone away. He mentioned his disdain for Randy, and especially for Stacy, on a daily basis, even more so after he found out Dave hung out with them. There was no way Randy fighting a new feud would keep him away, no matter how much Ric loved Christian.

"And anyway, don't change the subject," Randy said suddenly, and Dave sent him a confused look. "Why aren't you and Trish all over each other yet? You already got the 'I love you' out there, what are ya waiting for?"

"How do you know I got it out there?" Dave questioned, his brow raising.

"My girlfriend's got the biggest mouth in the WWE. I'm a gossip queen by association."

Something in the cheeky grin Randy beamed at him told Dave that the younger man enjoyed his self-appointed title a little too much. He laughed, but his expression soon turned dry.

"She wants me out of Evolution," he told him quietly.

Randy nodded, "Her and every one of us." When Dave sent him a look, he simply shrugged. "C'mon Dave, you know they're holding you back."

"You of all people should know why I can't leave," he muttered. "I can't just walk away from them, not now. I might just be better off on Smackdown, anyway. JBL obviously has something for me there."

Randy groaned, shaking his head.

"Because that wouldn't be walking away, right?" he challenged, leaning forward in his seat.

"I wasn't hoping for a pep talk, Orton."

"And I wasn't hoping you'd be a coward about this either, but it looks like I'm shit outta look," Randy said fiercely, jumping up from his seat. "You wanna go to Smackdown and take the easy way out? Fine. Leave behind everyone and everything you care about because you too scared to make a decision. Run away from a woman you're clearly in love with just so you don't have to make a tough choice. Walk away from your dreams just because Hunter told you to. Be Evolution's bitch, once again." He shook his head, walking towards the door. "That's awfully yellow of you, Dave."

His words sunk in heavily on Dave, and his eyes grew wide. He watched a disappointed Randy vanish out the door, sighing loudly. He was absolutely right. Every harsh word he said was true. He couldn't run anymore. He had to take charge of his situation, for once.

* * *

As she bounded through the curtains minutes later, Trish wondered exactly what she had started. When she headed out to the ring ten minutes earlier, she had no intentions of physically assaulting Christy. But when she bounced down to the ring and had the audacity to call her a slut, she snapped. She could not understand the logic behind Christy's name calling. The girl made a career out of bouncing to the ring, taking her clothes off and shaking her ass. 

Trish snorted as the image of her slapping the taste out of Christy's mouth replayed on a nearby monitor. She hugged her Women's Championship tightly, nodding to herself as JR called her actions reprehensible. She didn't feel one bit sorry for knocking her to the mat. Next time, she'd save her the sting and just cold-clock her. From behind where she paused to view the footage, Trish heard a single person's applause. She turned on her heel, smiling as she saw Molly. Molly's claps faded, and she walked up to Trish, placing her hands on her arms.

"I just want you to know," she began, "that I've got your back a hundred percent in this. Christy deserves anything she'll get from you." She paused, her grin hardening into a scowl. "I still can't believe she tried to tear you and Dave apart."

Trish grabbed Molly by the arms, shaking her head profusely. Molly let go of her, listening intently.

"This isn't just about Dave. The shit she pulled was the final straw, but this has been brewing for a long time," she explained. "She – _all_ of these new girls – has to start learning who the real divas are."

Molly nodded. "You know how I feel about them, Trish. I'm proud of you, for standing up for yourself and for what you believe in."

"This isn't only for me, Mol. It's for you, Victoria, even Lita – girls who have shed blood, sweat and tears for this company, just so we could be considered real wrestlers. It's for Jazz and Gail and Nidia, who put as much heart into this as any of us, only to lose their jobs to make room for women who wouldn't know a clothesline from a chokehold. It's for Stacy, Torrie, Dawn and Jackie, who aren't as good but are still willing to get their asses beat to prove how much they love this," Trish said, her entire speech given in a single breath. She inhaled sharply, "I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this whole thing. Women like Christy showing up out of nowhere and screwing everything up."

Molly took a step away from Trish, glancing at her cautiously. She didn't know whether to beam at her or to smack her. Try as she might to disguise it, Trish knew damn well that her hatred for Christy was strictly personal. This wasn't about Christy stealing spotlight. That was her excuse, the reason she gave the fans so that they could boo and jeer at her just like they loved. Trish was putting on a show for the, giving the crowds their money's worth, and all the while showing Christy that she would not take this sitting down.

"I'm not a fan, Trish, I'm your best friend," Molly reminded her. "You don't need to tell me you hate girls like Christy for screwing things up for us on Raw."

"But I do hate her for that," Trish insisted. She knew it wasn't convincing; she just hoped if she told herself enough, she might actually believe it.

"Probably. But you _really_ hate her for coming between you and Dave. Can't say I b lame you," she replied. Many times she imagined herself and Christian in the same situation. Obviously, it was an unwelcome image. "Hell hath no fury like a woman in love."

Trish laughed to herself, shaking her head.

"I don't love him," she said flatly.

Her gaze dropped, her eyes tracing the pattern designed on the carpet. Molly watched her in silence, shaking her head.

She patted Trish's shoulder, "Coulda fooled me." Following her statement, she turned away, heading back towards the locker room. "He's still thinking of jumping ship."

Trish's head snapped over her shoulder, her eyes widening.

"W-what?"

Molly sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Stacy has ears everywhere."

She turned and left her friend behind. Trish stood frozen, her jaw gaping open. She had to do something fast. She took a deep, shaky breath, and then stamped her foot down. With a smug look on her face, she headed in the opposite direction.


	20. Part 20

**A/N: I think the events in this chapter, mostly the second half of it, were a long time coming. So hopefully, you'll enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. Keep the reviews coming, you know how much it motivates me!**

**Part 20**  
An eerie feeling nestled in the pit of Trish's stomach as she watched Dave wrestle Edge. By the time she reached Evolution's locker room earlier, Dave had already departed for his match, bringing Ric and Hunter along with him. He was more than holding his own against his Canadian opponent… that wasn't what made her nervous. What Trish found most disturbing was Hunter and Ric, cheering Dave on from ringside. Considering the recent timeline of events for the faction, she found it odd for them to even be at ringside, let alone acting as cheerleaders. Hunter and Dave were not getting along. Something wasn't right.

Shaking off the discomfort, Trish focused on the battle between Dave and Edge. She winced as Dave was whipped into the ring post and then dropped to his knees. She soon smiled when moments later, Edge was driven into the canvas by a hard spinebuster. A smirk lingered on Dave's lips as he hovered above Edge, stalking his prey.

Trish grinned, a chill running up her spine. She wondered if he knew how sexy that smirk was, or how hott he looked coated in a slick layer of sweat. She licked her lips, only to frown when the image on the screen was diverted. A shot of the empty parking lot was displayed, the area still until it was brightened by a pair of headlights. Up to the camera rolled a white limousine, its front donning a pair of bull horns. Trish's eyes widened in surprise as the JBL logo rolled into vision. Bradshaw was at the arena.

The screen shot back to Dave, who didn't look happy in the least to see the WWE Champion's vehicle. Hunter and Ric climbed in the ring and pleaded with him to stay put, but he ignored them. He abandoned his match, leaving Edge lying in the ring as he slowly stomped up the ramp. Hunter and Ric's pleas continued, but neither man could slow him down. Nobody could stop an animal on a rampage. The camera crew followed Dave all the way to the back, where Hunter finally stopped him.

"You don't have to do this," he insisted, holding Dave still. "Go back to your match. Let me handle JBL, and then…"

"Shut up," Dave hissed back, tugging his arm free. "You stay out of this. Let me handle my business."

Though he didn't look pleased, Hunter complied. He let the big man go, watching as he disappeared out into the lot. From the moment he stepped outside, a sour feeling bubbled in Trish's stomach. Something in her gut told her she needed to get out there as soon as possible. She had a terrible premonition that something bad would happen if someone didn't stop Dave from going after JBL. But she remained in her spot, her eyes glued to the screen.

Dave called JBL several times, but he heard and saw nothing. By the looks of things, he had vanished. His eyes wandered around the lot, and he just about growled. Trish frowned, deciding that Bradshaw had chickened out. Or perhaps it was just a tactic to try and lure Dave over to Smackdown. Then again, she hadn't known Bradshaw to be the most fighting champion. She ruled the option out when, to her shock, she saw the headlights quickly coming closer.

"Dave!" she cried as the limo drove back into the lot, this time at a much faster speed. Her eyes widened… it was headed straight for him. "Oh my God…" she muttered.

Trish squeezed her eyes shut as it neared him. She couldn't bear to watch. There was a loud commotion in the following seconds, but none of the sounds resembled a car hitting a person. She cracked one eye open, then two as she saw Dave lying on the ground in a pile of trash. His eyes popped wide open, and he gasped for air as he tried to understand what had happened. He got to his feet and screamed at the limo as it sped off out of the lot, tires screeching as it turned back onto the road.

Trish's expression matched Dave's when she saw Hunter, who had been on the ground beside him, struggling to his feet. He had disobeyed Dave's orders to stay inside. He pushed him out of the way. He saved his life.

Had her legs not felt like jello, she would have bolted to him. Her heart fell all the way down through her gut as she considered how severe the incident could have been. Had Hunter not intervened, Dave would have been run over. She could have lost him. In a split second, Dave could have been taken from her before she ever got the chance to tell him she was madly in love with him.

Trish gasped as the statement rolled through her head. Dave Batista was The One. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She had to see him. Once her legs felt remotely solid, she turned her back to the monitor – not before catching one last glimpse of the scene. What she saw made her stomach drop even further.

The look Hunter was giving Dave from behind his back said it all. This had been a setup from the start. Hunter knew to dash outside because he _knew_ the limo would reenter the parking lot. He knew he would have to rescue Dave because he _knew_ he only had one more chance to be a hero. He knew, because he had planned it. Everything, from the videos of JBL and Big Show airing on Raw, to the limo trying to run him down, had all been a carefully orchestrated plot… a devious ploy that would drive Dave right to Smackdown and out of the Heavyweight Title picture, as well as out of his hair.

This was not something Hunter threw together quickly when he discovered her relationship with Dave. This had been thought out for months, meticulously constructed since before Dave even won the Rumble. Once again, Hunter truly lived up to the nickname Cerebral Assassin.

Strangely, the enormous trap Ric and Hunter set for Dave did not concern her at the moment. As Trish hurried off in search of him, all she could think about was how badly she needed to speak with him. She had to get her feelings out to him, before it was too late. What happened minutes earlier reminded her how fragile life was. She couldn't waste another minute denying her feelings.

An hour later, Dave was still in with the trainers. Trish knew, because she had sat in hiding by the door the second Ric dragged him and Hunter inside. She wondered what in hell could possibly take so long, especially when neither man had any physical injuries, at least she assumed. She relaxed back in her spot a bit, tilting her head back just enough so that she could see the door. Now was one of the moments that being tiny came in handy.

Her eyes and ears perked up when, after the longest hour of her life, the door popped open. Flair strutted out first, a smile on his confident but tired face. He said something about meeting both men at the hotel the next day, and then bounded off down the hall with a resounding, "Wooo!"

The door stayed open, and Trish got a perfect view of the inside. Dave sat on the examination table, tapping the back of his head against the wall. Hunter stood beside him, and Trish could see that he was concluding a speech. He extended his hand to Dave, and she scowled when Dave accepted the handshake. Hunter's face was extremely serious, till the second he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. His face broke into a huge, proud grin as he walked away, shaking his head.

The second he disappeared, Trish jumped out of her hiding spot and dove for the door, ripping it open. Dave's head shot up, and he met her panicked eyes. The two stared in silence for a split second before Dave opened his arms to her. Trish charged at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him so tightly he almost couldn't breathe. They remained that way, rocking each other in silence until their bodies calmed down, and their hearts stopped beating so rapidly.

Trish was the first to pull away, her hands still loosely wrapped around the back of his neck.

"Are you hurt?" she asked him, and Dave knew she was referring more to the mental aspect of the accident than any physical injury. He let his hands move to her waist, tracing her hip bone with his index finger.

"In shock," he replied honestly. "Can't say I was expecting someone to try and run me down."

Trish nodded, leaning toward him to hug him again. Everything seemed okay in his arms. She didn't have to worry about Hunter, or Ric, or Christy, or anyone for that matter. She couldn't believe that she almost lost this feeling for good.

"Dave," she said suddenly, a certain urgency in her voice, "there's something I have to tell you…"

"That Hunter's lying through his teeth? Spare both of us the lecture," he replied. "I know exactly what's going on here. Cena told me JBL was in New York hours ago. He set me up, and he didn't think I'd be smart enough to catch on."

Trish shook her head, "I'm not talking about Hunter. I'm talking about us." He tilted his head back, eyeing her inquisitively. "Dave, watching what just happened out there, it made me feel an emotion I'm extremely unaccustomed to… fear. I was so scared, scared of what could have happened to you. Scared of knowing I could've lost you before I got the chance to explain my feelings. I never want to feel the way I felt tonight again."

"Trish, there's no need to explain yourself to me," Dave insisted. He let go of her hips and took each of her hands in his own. "I think I know how you feel."

"I don't think so," she disagreed. "You can't possibly know what I'm feeling when I don't even know…"

"What _do_ you know?" he asked her.

"I know…" she began, biting her lip. She remembered quickly why she hated doing this. "The thing is, you tie me up in knots. I look at you, and I see this guy that I wanna wake up next to every day for the rest of my life. I've known you for such a short time, and yet I can see myself settling down with you. And honestly, Dave, that scares the shit out of me."

For the first time since she entered the room, Dave smiled at her. Not just a regular smile, but a beam, and he let her hands go and wrapped his arms around her. He knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"Ya know what? I love you, too."

Trish's mouth hung open, her gaze drifting away. When her sight returned to him, he noticed that the slightest hint of moisture had filled her eyes.

"You're right," she choked, inhaling sharply. "I _do_ love you, Dave. I love you so much."

A huge mountain of air seemed to deflate from his chest. Her statement was spoken with a confidence and assurance that only Trish Stratus was capable of achieving. Despite his horrific night, elation soared through him. He grinned wildly before jumping from the table, locking his arms securely around her perfect figure.

Dave kissed her, his lips smashing down forcefully on hers. He swirled his tongue around hers, reaching that unbridled passion he had long hoped to share with her. Trish was even more eager to respond then when she planted that drunken kiss on him a week earlier. She hugged him till she thought her arms would fall off, and broke the kiss only when she was completely breathless. They started longingly into each other's dark eyes, both wearing relieved smiles. Though they were both aware that they were about to face hell, Dave and Trish felt a huge weight lifted from them.

"So," Trish spoke after a long silence. "Where do we go from here?"

Dave simply laughed as he gave her another kiss. "Hotel would be nice."


	21. Part 21

**A/N: Now that Trish and Dave are together, the story is basically over... yeah, right. There's plenty more in store for everyone before this saga comes to an end, so I really hope you keep reading and reviewing! You guys all rock, you know that.**

Part 21  
Molly growled as she rolled over to her side, stuffing a pillow over her head. She felt a finger poking at her waist once again. Someone had a death wish. She dramatically tossed her pillow to the floor, before flipping back over to face her assailant.

"Oh good, you're awake," Christian said with a smile.

He laughed when she rolled her tired eyes at him, and placed her hands over her face. Molly was far from a morning person, and every once in awhile he just liked to torture her because of it.

"What do you want?" she asked him, though her voice was far from interested.

He shrugged, "You're cute when you sleep, but you're cuter awake." She lifted her hands and stared daggers into him. "My little ray of sunshine."

Had he not been slightly frightened by her murderous gaze, Christian would have laughed. He shifted away slightly, preparing himself for an assault. Molly turned away to yawn, and then she stared menacingly at him.

"You woke me up out of a perfectly deep sleep," she spoke flatly, her eyes reminding him just how serious of an offense that was. "There _better_ be more to it then me being cute."

"Nope. Cute was about it," Christian teased, reaching under the covers to tickle her sides again. The tactic which usually had her hysterical in under a minute, did not garner a single giggle. Instead, Molly balled her hand into a fist and punched him in the chest. She kept going at him until he threw his hands out to protect himself. "I surrender," he gave in weakly. "Okay, okay, so there is something I wanna talk about."

"What's that?" Molly questioned, resting on her back. She yawned, this time covering her mouth.

Christian cleared his throat, something he only did when he had something important to say. He pulled himself up so that his back rested against the headboard. He gestured for her to join him, wrapping his arms around her when she placed her head on his shoulder.

"What is it, babe/" she asked him, her eyes filling with worry. The serious gaze on his face concerned her.

He sighed loudly, "It's this thing with Randy and me. How long does it have to continue?" He paused, but went on when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

"We promised Randy and Stacy we'd help them," she protested. Christian nodded. He knew how seriously she took promises. "Why do you want out all of a sudden? You were fine with it last night."

"And I stayed up all night thin king about it. Mol, we can't keep this up forever. Randy and I can't wrestle each other every night for the rest of our careers."

"You won't have to," she insisted, lifting her head up. "Randy and Stace both know this is temporary. It's about their safety."

"No, it's about _our_ safety," Christian argued, his voice growing slightly defensive. "It's great that you wanna help them out, but have you stopped to think about what'll happen to us if Flair or Triple H find out this is a scam? We're just as involved as Randy and Stacy are."

Molly shrugged, "Hunter already doesn't like me."

"And he doesn't touch you because you're my girl," Christian reminded her. "For whatever reason, they like me. They find out Randy and I are working together, I go on the shit list, and _we_ go through hell."

Molly bit her lip as she considered his statement. She had never thought about the consequences that they would face for helping Randy and Stacy out. They were at a serious risk. Before she had to respond, there was a knock on the door.

Molly glanced up at Christian, pouting, "Go get that?"

He groaned, but the Canadian released his grip on her waist and carried himself out of bed. He disappeared out of the bedroom and went for the door.

"Uh, Mol," he called awkwardly a moment later. "…Trish is here to see you."

Molly sprang out of bed, suddenly feeling very alert. Trish wouldn't stop by so early unless something was wrong. She hurried out into the other room, where a smiling Trish caught her off guard. She didn't look upset. In fact, Trish looked giddy. Molly took a seat beside her best friend on the couch Christian had showed to her when she arrived. She glanced up at her boyfriend, motioning to the bedroom door. With a pout and a kick, Christian sighed and made his exit.

"Dave and I are together," Trish blurted before Molly could even look her way.

The brunette's head whipped around, and her eyes went wide. She returned Trish's smile with an ear-to-ear grin of her own.

"It's about damn time. Stacy and I were starting to take bets," she said with a laugh. Trish lowered her head in a sheepish nod. "Really though, Trish, I'm so happy for you. You deserve this."

Trish offered her a warm smile in response. She wasn't used to smiling so much. But ever since last night, she found it impossible to stop.

"Thanks, Mol. I didn't realize how ridiculous I was being about not talking to him until after I did it," she admitted. "But everything is great now… it really feels right with Dave."

Molly's grin widened. She loved stories that ended this way. The prospect of true love succeeding made her happy. Her mind wandered a bit, back to her talk with Christian. How would Hunter react when he found out that the couple he so desperately tried to destroy had survived his attempts? She could just see the furniture flying.

"What are you gonna do about The Game-uhh?" Molly questioned, giggling. The two of them constantly made fun of the way Hunter spoke. "He's gonna be livid."

"Of course he is," Trish agreed with a nod. "I took his Animal from him. He won't know what to do."

Molly's gaze grew skeptical. She hoped that Trish was not underestimating Hunter. With or without Dave, the champ would come out of this swinging, and swinging hard.

"Don't doubt him, Trish. I'm sure he'll come up with something."

"Oh, I know that," Trish replied. "Don't worry about me, Mol. If Hunter decides he has a problem with me, I'll just give him the fight of his life."

Whether it was cocky or just plain confident, Molly admired Trish's bravado. If anyone, man or woman, had the guts to stand up to Hunter, it was Trish Stratus.

"As long as you're ready to retaliate when he fights back…" she said, slightly warily.

Trish just smiled at her, "Guess I'll have to get those Chick Kicks ready."

* * *

After finishing her discussion with Molly, Trish headed back to her hotel room, where she had left a sleeping Dave nearly an hour ago. She hardly wanted to stop staring at him and get out of bed, but she was getting antsy. She had to tell someone the good news. She was sure she had made the right decision.

Any skepticism she felt about her choice washed away when she saw Molly's eyes light up. Even Christian, whom she gathered had been listening in the whole time, mumbled a congratulations when he walked her to the door as his girlfriend instructed.

A smile spread widely across her lips as she pushed the hotel room door open and found Dave sitting on the couch. Having woken up while she was gone, Dave read her note and got ready for the day while she visited with Molly. He relaxed onto the couch, dressed in his usual three-piece suit. It was hard for Trish not to stare. The man was beautiful.

She came to sit beside him, but he quickly scooped her up and rested her in his lap.

"Mornin', beautiful," he murmured into her neck, planting a quick kiss on her jaw.

Trish tossed her arms around him, rubbing her cheek against his freshly shaven face.

"Funny, I was gonna say the same thing," she told him.

Dave laughed, shaking his head. He was still in a state of almost-disbelief. The previous night was extremely emotional for him, but it could not have had a better ending. He was tempted to pinch himself, just to be sure it was real. He sat with her in silence, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Ya know something?" he spoke eventually. Trish shifted and raised an eyebrow. "When you ran into me all that time ago, I never even considered this. I knew right away that I wanted to know more about you…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "But I _never _imagined we'd end up like this."

Trish nodded. When she first collided with Dave, she had hardly expected to see him again, much less fall in love with him. There was so much she could say, but she just grinned.

"One of life's pleasant surprises," she said simply.

Dave tilted his head back, staring at her. His lips curled up slightly as he drank in her features. He always thought she was gorgeous. But there was something about her, something about her being his that made her that much more beautiful.

"Yeah…"

Their heads moved closer together, almost magnetically. They met in a kiss, one no less passionate than the one from the night before. Trish placed her knee on the other side of Dave's body, straddling him as the kiss deepened. She could feel his reaction to her, and she giggled into his mouth. She rolled her hips just slightly, earning a groan from Dave.

Trish smiled… she almost forgot how fun it was to torture a man like that. She broke the kiss a minute later, gasping for a breath as her hands went to his tie. As she began to untie it, she stopped and sent an expectant glance his way.

Dave placed his hands on her hips, kissing her again. He'd been imagining this situation for the longest time. Like he'd turn it away when the offer finally came.

"We really don't _need_ to be at the arena on time," he said with a wink.


	22. Part 22

**A/N: I know, it's been forever. And I have no excuse other than the fact that I have been SWAMPED lately. With school starting again, it's really hard for me to find time to write, but I'm going to TRY and get an update out at least once a week. I hope I haven't lost you guys. Let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 22**  
"What the hell was that!"

Dave smiled, shaking his head. He expected Trish to react this way. He knew from the second he stepped back into their hotel room to find her staring coldly at him, that he was in trouble. He walked over to the table, dropping the steel baseball bat that was in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders, sending her an innocent look.

"I thought it was pretty cool," he said with a smirk, plopping down on the couch beside her. With her arms still crossed, Trish shifted in her seat, turning towards him.

"Cool?" she repeated in disbelief. "Do you have any clue what you just did?"

"I know exactly what I did, Trish. I walked into the Smackdown arena and smashed the shit outta JBL's limo," he said proudly. His eyes lit up at the thought of the shattering windows on the WWE Champ's limousine.

"And for what?" Trish retorted. "He didn't try to have you run down."

A scowl wrinkled her pretty complexion as she recalled what happened on Monday night. She didn't agree with this at all. Instead of JBL's windows, it should have been Hunter's face he was smashing.

Dave sighed loudly. Tossing an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her up against him. He was almost surprised that she didn't see the logic behind his actions. The plan had 'Trish' written all over it.

"It's about sending a message… you should know that by now. I remind JBL he doesn't wanna mess with me, and at the same time trick Hunter into thinking he outsmarted me. Killing two birds with one stone… or, one baseball bat," he explained, taking his sunglasses off and tossing them onto the table.

Trish frowned. She understood _why_ he did it. But it almost seemed like he'd forgotten who he was dealing with. It was okay for her to make rash decisions and bold moves because the extent of her competition was a skinny redhead who couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag. Dave, on the other hand, was dealing with the two most powerful men in the company. His actions needed to be more carefully thought out.

"What if they attacked you?" she asked suddenly. "You would've had four guys on you, not one."

Dave smirked at her, squeezing her shoulder. He _had_ thought it all out. He knew there was a good chance that Bradshaw's "Cabinet" would be ready and willing to attack… which was exactly why he never stepped foot into the building. By the time they got outside to assess the damage, he was long gone.

"Exactly why I told you to hang here," he told her. "Besides, you think I've never got my ass handed to me before? I'm sure I'd deal."

Trish shifted away from him, staring at him incredulously. For months Dave had postponed leaving Evolution because of the paralyzing fear he had over Hunter kicking his ass. And now, suddenly, he wasn't afraid? Even more than that… he was just plain nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Are you drunk?" she asked. Her face twisted with confusion. That was the only logical explanation for his calm, complacent demeanor. "Because you sure as hell aren't making much sense right now."

"I wish," Dave replied with a snort. His laugh was rueful. He turned towards her, his hand slipping from her shoulder and grazing down her back. "I know what I'm up against, trust me. I haven't forgotten that quickly."

"Then why are you acting like you don't care?" she questioned, glancing down to watch her fingernails drag across his thigh. "You're about to enter the fight of your life with the most dangerous man in the world. Don't pretend it's not affecting you. Like you're not scared."

Dave's eyes floated away, his finger tracing down her spine. He sighed, "I think you and I both know that I'm scared shitless." Of course he was scared of Hunter. Any man targeted by the Cerebral Assassin had every reason to be fearful. "But what am I supposed to do, sit around and wait for him to take me out? You know better than that."

Trish nodded, lifting her head. She knew he was right. And if it was anyone else pitting themselves against Hunter, she would have supported their every move. But this wasn't anyone else. This was Dave, and that made the rules change. He was softening her.

"I do know better," she agreed, meeting his eyes. "I'm just worried. I want you to make sure you're thinking all of this out before you go pulling stunts."

"This is thought out, Trish. I know what I'm doing… and come Monday night, we put this operation into full swing."

Trish bit her lip thoughtfully. "I hope you're ready for a fight," she voice carefully.

Dave smiled and leaned forward. He kissed her forehead, reaching up to her cheek and stroking her tension away. Then, his eyes grew serious, and he stared at her with a fierce determination.

"I'm ready for an all-out war."

* * *

Though Thursday through Sunday had been nerve wracking for her, Trish was beaming as she waited behind the curtain on Monday night. She held tightly to her championship belt, having successfully defended it against Molly and Victoria. She wasn't yet sure which felt better – retaining her title, or simply having a match. And with the only two women in the company of any comparison to her, at that. 

She waited patiently in the gorilla position, her eyes brightening when her opponents emerged. The three of them shook hands, grinning widely. It had been so long since a _real_ women's match had been booked for Raw. They knew they were running out of opportunities to show management that they deserved to be taken seriously.

"If that didn't impress Vince, I might just have to tell him to kiss my ass," Victoria spoke as the three ladies headed down the hall. She rarely hid her opinions, and it was no secret that the raven-haired diva did not hold the WWE Chairman in the highest regard. Of all the divas on the roster, she suffered the most because of the influx of Christy Hemmes.

Trish sent her a reassuring smile, "We'll show him Vic, don't you worry."

They continued their triumphant march down the hall, until Trish separated herself from the others before reaching the locker room. Her night was far from over, and she needed to track down Dave. He was going over some old tapes – which Hunter's ex-wife Stephanie McMahon was more than willing to hand over to him – and instructed her to go to the arena without them. That had been hours ago, and so Trish suspected he would have arrived by now.

As she began her search, she happened to wander past, of all people, Christy Hemme. She swallowed the anger that lurched in her throat, forcing her gaze away as she hurried past them. She had more important things to worry about then the redhead perched up against the wall, engaged in a discussion with Candice Michelle.

"What an enthralling conversation that must be," she muttered as she passed them.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the three time Slut of the Year," Christy called after her.

Trish froze in her tracks, whipping around to face the two women. She marched over to them, a smug grin on her face as she prepared to reply to the catty remark.

"Now, Christy, don't you have a nice photographer you could be getting naked for?" she quipped. She gave a phony smile, and then turned her attention to Candice. "And you, sweetie, isn't there some B-rate porn movie you could be appearing in?"

The expressions on the faces of the girls turned sour. Giving Christy a rough pat on the back, Trish winked and turned away. Once again, a comment left Christy's lips the moment she turned away.

"Ya know Candice, for someone who's supposed to be the toughest chick in the business, she sure does a lot of talking, and not a lot of backing it up."

Again Trish turned sharply on her heel, stomping back over to her. Despite how badly she wanted to respond in words, Trish held her tongue. Instead, she reached back and swung, slapping Christy hard. The younger woman dropped down, a pained groan escaping her as she rubbed her cheek. Trish shook the sting out of her hand, and then did Candice the same favor, smacking the unsuspecting diva across the face.

Before long, a scuffle ensued. If you could even call it that. Trish could've easily handled both women at once, but luckily for Christy, several officials had been watching from near by. They quickly separated the three women, and as referee Mike Chioda dragged her away, Trish smiled.

Her grin faded when, down the hall, she saw a frazzled looking Ric Flair running around. As they neared him, she watched him take out his cell phone, and she pulled her arm out of Chioda's grasp. She rested against the wall and watched him. Flair dialed, and when there was no answer, left a frantic voicemail to whom she concluded was Dave. According to Ric, he still hadn't shown up yet.

Trish backed away, concern flooding her dark eyes. Where could he be? He'd be there, she told herself. He wouldn't skip out on his contract signing, the most important night of his career…

Would he?


	23. Part 23

**A/N: I know, it's been forever. Hope you're still with me. This story is winding down, and I will DEFINITELY have an update sooner this time around. Reviews would be great, thanks so much for sticking with me!**

Chapter 23  
10:31. Decision time was approaching much too quickly for his comfort. Dave shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat of his rental car, his knees bumping the steering wheel.

He knew he couldn't hide like this forever… he just desperately wanted to.

His phone stopped ringing twenty minutes ago, solely because he turned it off. The incoming calls from Ric wracked his brain, and the ones from Trish tore at his heart. Three days ago the answer was so clear. He had to leave Evolution. He had to get away from Hunter. His well-being was at stake. Trish's well-being was at stake.

…But what about his career? Everything was uncertain.

His career could skyrocket. He could storm in that arena and beat the shit out of Hunter, and in a matter of weeks be the World Heavyweight Champion. The door to his dreams was swinging open.

…Or, he could falter. Hunter was arguably the most powerful man in the company. He was easily the most manipulative. Screwing with him was like walking through a mine field. One wrong step and… boom. Gone. His career destroyed, just like that.

Snapshots from his tenure with the WWE flashed through his mind. Just two years ago, he was nothing. A tattooed goon running around with a cash box. He never wanted to be Deacon Batista again. He was done with Velocity and Heat. He was done mid-carding. Those parts of his career were just blemishes on the face of the career he imagined.

But Evolution… Evolution brought Dave glory. It brought him recognition and respect and stage on which to make a name for himself. With Ric, his back would never be unguarded. With Hunter, he'd never go without a plan. Was he really even anything without them? _Could_ he amount to anything without them?

Even as he exhaled, his chest was heavy. He never felt so plagued. He had less then twenty minutes to choose which direction to turn, and both right and left were clouded with a thick fog. God, why the hell was this so hard? Maybe he wasn't cut out for decision making. Maybe he was just an ass kicking machine. A monster with the ability to crush anything placed in front of him. Maybe he was better off as the unthinking, unfeeling animal.

Hunter's Animal.

10:34.

It was too soon. He wasn't ready. The decision to stay or leave had to be made. But not now. Right now he needed to go… Where, he was unsure. But it had to be far. And he had to get there fast.

His heart pounded frantically as his unsteady hand reached for the keychain dangling from the ignition. Dave took a deep breath as he started the engine, lowering his head to the wheel. As his hand fell onto the gear shift, the door was yanked open. He didn't even have to look.

"Turn that fucking car off," Trish spat, her tongue dripping with venom. Dave lifted his head slowly, his gaze meeting her hips. He couldn't look her in the eye… because she knew. "What the hell is wrong with you…" She forced the door open and positioned herself between it and the car.

Dave sighed, his eyes leveling at her navel. "Look Trish, I know this doesn't make sense, but right now I just…"

"It makes perfect sense, Dave. You're a coward," she stated plainly. He could feel the coldness in her stare. Old Trish was taking over. "Go ahead, tuck your tail between your legs and go home. Just run away, don't worry about solving your problems."

She was getting under his skin and she knew it. Dave remained silent, though his fists clenched tightly. The vein in his temple began to faintly throb.

"I expected this from Hunter. But not you, Dave," Trish continued, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but if you pull out of this parking lot I will be highly disappointed in you."

Final straw. The bitch in her got to him. After a moment of thick silence Dave yanked the keys from the ignition and forcibly exited the vehicle. He stood directly in front of Trish, leaning towards her.

"What the hell do you want me to do? You know what I'm going up against, Trish! This isn't a catfight with Christy Hemme. This is the start of a _war_ with the most dangerous man in this industry. Me bashing his brains in tonight is not going to solve the problem," he said, finding himself winded.

Trish's eyes softened a bit when she saw the emotion behind his. There it was again, the lost soul in his eyes. It was the same as in her own.

"Giving up on yourself won't solve them, either," she said, her tone much gentler then before.

Dave stared at her. Barely a week ago, their roles had been reversed. He was confident in his decision, assuring her that it was the correct one. And now, he needed her to reassure him on what he already knew was right?

When she reached for his hands, new images suddenly flashed through his mind. Hunter's hand being raised in victory, title strap around his waist… Himself on the sidelines, cheering as he left the blood of Hunter's opponents on his own hands… A terrified Stacy Keibler being set up for a Pedigree…

…Randy's skull crashing onto the mat, dropped off _his_ shoulders.

Fierce determination flashed through his eyes. He was through being manipulated. He placed the keys in Trish's hand and silently pushed past her.

Back into the building.

Trish didn't chase after him. She simply smiled.


	24. Part 24

**A/N: I want to say that this story is winding down. But when I consider all the things I want to do, it seems unlikely thatit'll fit into five more chapters. So to be safe, I'll say 5-10. Thank you guys SO much for the reviews and all the support, it means the world. I'm anxious to hear what you think after this chapter.**

Chapter 24  
A week had passed. Seven days earlier, the unthinkable had occurred. Something that could change the face of Monday Night Raw. Batista turned on Triple H. The sometimes reluctant, yet always loyal Animal broke free from his chains. And he beat the shit out of his leader. The prayers of wrestlers and fans alike were finally answered. A warrior, in the form of Dave Batista, had knocked the king of Raw right from his throne. No one saw it coming. But _everyone_ relished in it.

And so, one week after driving Triple H straight through a table, Batista made his way to the ring. Decked out in a suit that Trish claimed made her want "lick him from head to toe," Dave entered the arena to a deafening ovation.

Beneath the thick jacket, goose-bumps covered his arms. The people appreciated what he did – not only for them, but for himself. They appreciated his tough situation, and they appreciated the definitive manner in which he escaped it. Despite Hunter's earlier threats to "beat him within an inch of his life" if he showed up, Dave boasted a proud grin in the center of the ring.

When the applause finally began to dwindle, he grabbed a microphone. He began his speech, speaking with a pride and confidence no one had ever seen in him. He explained, to no one's surprise, that Hunter was always the center of Evolution's attention, even after _he_ won the Royal Rumble. He was sick of being ordered around, of being mocked, and of being overshadowed by his leader.

Then, he paused for a moment, an arrogant smirk crossing his face. "It's all about the game, and how you play it," he quoted the all too familiar lyric. "Well last week," he said, flashing the audience a brilliant grin. "Last week, The Game got played." The crowd roared until he concluded his mantra, candidly stating that come Wrestlemania, he would become the man.

When the anticipated sound of Motorhead finally filled the arena, the cheers ominously turned to boos. Out came Hunter, a red-faced Ric pacing by his side. The two charged for the ring, but Dave barely budged. Their intimidation tactics would not work on him. Not after last week. Not after he saw the fear blazing through the eyes of his former leaders. He shed his jacket and took a protective stance, fully prepared for a fight.

Ric sacrificed himself to the ring, diving head first onto the apron. Dave easily decimated his old mentor, tossing him like a rag doll before laying him out with an earth-shattering spinebuster.

As he expected, Hunter never stepped foot in the ring. The cowardice beneath the cocky exterior started to show. As the troubled champion headed back up the ramp, Dave's eyes rested on the belt held snugly over his shoulder. The gold gleamed through his eyes. In a matter of weeks, that belt would belong to him…

* * *

"You know, man, now that you got your own room I can come by whenever I want," Randy remarked with a smile as he waltzed into Dave's private locker room.

Glancing up from the gym bag he was packing, Dave rolled his eyes. "I can't tell you how much that excites me, Orton," he spoke sarcastically, shaking his head. He turned his back to Randy, letting a small smile touch his lips. Though he'd never admit it, he missed having the kid around. Even if he was a punk.

He zipped up his bag and tossed it to the floor, sauntering over to the couch Randy had apparently made himself comfortable in. He relaxed into the opposite end, shifting his body so he was turned towards Randy.

"Did you hear about your match next week?" Randy asked, helping himself to one of the several unopened water bottles on the table beside the sofa.

Dave nodded, watching the younger man sip his drink. Almost immediately following their encounter, Hunter ran to Bischoff, demanding that Dave be put in a match against Ric the following week. And of course, Bischoff was quick to grant Hunter his wish.

"Yeah, I heard," he replied with a shrug. "If what I did to him tonight is any inclination of how our match will go, I'm not concerned."

Both men allowed themselves to be distracted by the sound of an entrance theme playing on the monitor. Christy Hemme, peppy as always, danced down to the ring, enjoying a mildly warm reception from the crowd. She leapt excitedly, set to reveal the cover of the Playboy magazine in which she'd be featured.

Dave couldn't help but groan, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. Tearing his gaze from the television, Randy reverted back to their conversation.

"You know it'll be a two-on-one," he said. Dave simply nodded. Everyone, himself included, understood that when Hunter requested Batista vs. Flair, he was essentially getting a Handicapped match. "I just want you to know, I got your back," he said sincerely. "You know, in case things get out of hand."

Dave smiled gratefully, but he politely declined the offer. "I got this, man," he assured. Christy proudly unveiled her cover. It was decent, but as Playboy covers went, he'd seen better. "I gotta do this on my own. I have to prove that I can handle whatever shit they throw my way."

Randy was silent. He knew Dave would refuse his help, but he felt compelled to offer regardless. Their attention drifted again to the screen, both men drawn by loud giggles filling the arena. Trish made her way the ring, mocking the newest Playboy bunny. She taunted the redhead, wondering aloud why Christy was billed as a champion diva when in face she hadn't even wrestled a real match. Dave was surprised that Trish kept her insults at such a professional level… even when she pulled out a can of red spray paint and covered the word 'Champion' with a bold line.

When she suddenly laid Christy out with a jaw-breaking Chick Kick, Dave's eyes widened. As she hovered over her prone body, Trish beamed, giving the paint can a good shake. His gaze grew serious, but Randy cracked up.

"This is the Trish I like to see," he said, pointing as the blonde haired diva leaned down and began to spray paint across the back of Christy's conveniently white outfit. As the word 'SLUT' was spelled across her back, Randy too felt his eyes grow wide. "Oh, shit. She just destroyed _and_ humiliated her. That was awesome!"

Dave shook his head. He still felt partially responsible for the mess between Trish and Christy. But at least he knew that Trish obviously had a handle on things. And Trish's triumph over Christy was just another sign that Hunter could not control his life.

"Hey, weren't you trying to throw Hunter off your trail? To keep him off your back?" he asked, suddenly recalling a previous conversation. "If you want to lose his attention, I don't recommend you openly volunteering to whoop his ass for me."

Randy sighed, his gaze dropping a bit. "Well, I sort of gave up on that whole idea to keep him away from me. The Christian thing fell through right away… him and Tomko are teaming up now, they had a match during the Heat taping. We couldn't keep that charade up anyway." He paused, taking a sip of his water before sealing it up and putting it down. "I just figured if I couldn't get him to go away, I'd get right in his face and fight him with you. As long as he stays away from Stacy, I really don't care what happens to me."

Dave eyed Randy curiously, surprised to see his younger friend giving up so easily. Orton was normally so dedicated to his ideas that no one could sink through to him… now he was just giving up on himself?

"That's a little uncharacteristic of you," Dave told him bluntly. "You're a smart guy, Randy. You could figure something out if you just keep trying. Just because Christian didn't pan out doesn't mean someone else will." He paused, laughing quietly. "You're a pretty annoying guy. I'm sure you could strike up a decent feud with someone."

Randy's eyes lit up at Dave's statement. He _had_ thought of someone else to focus his attention on. To this point, no one had even been willing to hear him out. It was crazy, and following through with it would cause him a hell of a lot more trouble then Hunter ever could. But it would certainly keep Stacy safe. And give him a chance to immensely boost his career.

"There is someone I had in mind…" he began, his gaze tentative. Dave glanced him, nodding for him to go on. "You'll know soon enough."

The time on his watch told Randy he was supposed to be meeting up with Superstar Billy Graham, who was in town to help promote Wrestlemania, in two minutes. He hopped off the couch, extending his hand to Dave. The two men shook hands, and Randy headed for the door.

"Hey Randy," Dave called after him. Randy paused at the door, turning back to him. "Don't get too bent out of shape over Hunter. He's gonna have his hands full with me."


	25. Part 25

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay in updating. I graduated at the end of June, and I've just been so incredibly busy lately. I'll do my best to get another update soon. Please review!**

Chapter 25  
"No offense, Stace, but your boyfriend's off his damn rocker," Trish said as she stepped into the women's locker room. A week following Randy's cryptic announcement to Dave, the young Superstar had gone to the ring with plans to reveal his plans to the rest of the wrestling world.

From the couch, both Stacy and Molly turned their attention to her. Molly simply nodded in agreement. She had no clue what Randy's announcement would be, but considering his lack of common sense, she could only imagine what it would be. A puzzled look crossed Stacy's face. Randy had briefly mentioned his announcement to her earlier, but the only explanation he offered was that it would "shock the world." She cocked an eyebrow at Trish, momentarily ignoring the monitor.

"What are you saying, Trish?" she questioned, her eyes confused. "You know what this is about?"

Trish bit her lip awkwardly, suddenly wondering if she had said too much. Two hours before Raw began, Randy could no longer keep his announcement a secret. He told Dave, who immediately blabbed to Trish. And though Trish did not get the chance to see Randy before he made his way to the ring, she had some choice words planned for the not-so-brilliant young wrestler.

Deciding to let Stacy hear for herself, she simply took a seat beside her. "Sadly, yes," she admitted, resting forward. Molly sent her a look, but Trish shook her head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you..."

In the ring, Randy proclaimed that the wrestling business was not a popularity contest, but about making an impact. And apparently, he was confidently aware of just how to make that impact. He proposed another "Legend vs. Legend Killer" match at Wrestlemania... and although the arena quickly filled with the deafening sound of boos, the three women heard his challenger's name loud and clear.

"Way to write your own death wish, Orton," Molly quipped as she rested back on the couch. Trish nodded an "I-told-you-so", shaking her head. At the end of the couch, Stacy's jaw dropped.

"The... Undertaker?" she repeated, her tone much less confident then Randy's. "Is he serious?"

"Oh yeah," Trish replied. She stretched her arms out, yawning loudly. "I can't figure out what his logic is, but he seems to think this is the cure-all to your problems with Hunter."

Stacy simply stared at the screen, not blinking even as Eric Bischoff's music hit and the General Manager made his way to the ring. She watched blankly as he greeted Randy, commending him on his "brave challenge." She knew Randy better than anyone, and though he had a tendency to make hasty decisions, he was not stupid. He would not make such a drastic decision without wholeheartedly believing the benefits outweighed the risks.

As Bischoff claimed that Randy would be the one to end Taker's undefeated Wrestlemania streak, Trish and Molly snorted. Soon after, Trish frowned uneasily. It was incredibly unusual for Randy to pal around with the General Manager, especially considering the treatment he was given following being kicked out of Evolution.

"What the hell is he doing becoming all buddy-buddy with that prick?" Trish commented, shaking her head. "I'm all for doing what you gotta do, but he's an idiot," she muttered afterwards.

Still, Stacy remained silent. Randy's actions puzzled her beyond belief. A bewildered expression took over her pretty face as Randy complemented Bischoff for helping WCW beat Raw in the ratings for 86 straight weeks.

"And I guess," he said, a mischievous gleam suddenly filling his blue eyes. "That makes you a legend..."

Not a moment later, Bischoff caught on, and the fear filled his eyes. In a matter of seconds he was on his back, laid out with an intense RKO. Randy stood above him, beaming as the crowd seemingly rejoined his side. He waltzed out of the ring, heading proudly to the back.

Though the other two didn't budge, Trish rose from her seat, a grin spreading across her face.

"Okay, that was kickass," she said, proud of his rebellious action. On her way to the door, she tossed her hair over her shoulders and added, "I take back the idiot comment, for now."

* * *

Car rides with Trish normally consisted of her changing the radio dial every 30 seconds, then lowering it to tell Dave some story that simply could not wait till they arrived at their destination. One thing he never experienced in a car with her, was silence. But tonight, as he drove them back to the hotel following Raw, not a peep left Trish's mouth.

Dave let it go for awhile, enjoying the peace that he so rarely got to experience anymore. Soon enough, her pout got to him, and he could not ignore her anymore. A hand lifted from the steering wheel, resting gently on her thigh. Trish jumped slightly, glancing down and then over at Dave. She offered him a smile, but it did nothing to reassure him.

"You're quiet," he said softly. She shrugged, turning her attention to the window. Buildings and shrubbery sped past her in a blur, and she couldn't contain a sigh. Dave lifted his hand from her knee, placing it back on the wheel. "Come on, woman, talk to me."

"She had to pick Lita..." Trish mumbled. Dave exhaled sharply... he should have known. "She got me good, Dave. Christy goddamn Hemme got one over on me."

Sock was a complete understatement of her feelings. Earlier in the evening, Christy challenged Trish to a Women's Title match at Wrestlemania. That much she expected. She was _not_, however, prepared to see Lita enter the ring, revealing that she had secretly been training Christy in preparation for her challenge.

"Trish, she's been training for a month, tops," Dave reasoned. "She's not gonna beat you..."

"I know that. My title's not what I'm concerned about," she said, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Dave, she outsmarted me. A skimpy bikini wearing Diva Search slut dug into my past and is using it against me."

For some reason, her response angered him. Just slightly, but it was enough for him to seriously reconsider her statement. Finding this situation oddly familiar to the bout of insecurity he had the previous week, he shook his head. It was time for him to return the favor. Time for a pep talk.

"So she beat you this week. It's _one_ show, Trish, and I can guarantee you that by this time next week you'll have come up with something a hundred times better then what she pulled tonight," he said to her, his hands steady on the wheel. He exhalehd slowly, "It's not a big deal..."

"This is a _huge_ deal, Dave," Trish snapped back, her voice testy. She looked over at him, awaiting a response, but Dave remained silent, focusing his attention on the deserted highway. "Lita is the only woman in this company who knows me well enough to beat me at the mind games. If I can't win psychologically, I can't win period."

Without a word, Dave slammed on the brakes, jolting both of them forward. He quickly pulled to the side of the road, the tires screeching as the car came to an abrupt halt. Trish screamed, throwing a hand over her chest as her heart nearly jumped out of her body. She stared at Dave incredulously, her jaw hanging open as she looked at him in shock.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" she asked him, breathing heavily as she settled back into her seat... and her skin.

"No, but I think you might have lost yours," he said flatly, putting the car and park and turning towards her. "Do you have any idea how hypocritical you're being?"

"Excuse me?" she shot back, her voice quickly filling with venom. Dave had to bite back a smile. This was exactly the reaction he wanted from her. He wanted to piss her off. He wanted to make her mad, because it was the only way she'd realize how ridiculous she was acting.

"You heard me," he said firmly, crossing his arms. "What was it you said to me in the parking lot two weeks ago? 'Go ahead, tuck your tail between your legs and go home.' Is that what you want to do, Trish? Run away from your problems?" He paused, and she opened her mouth to speak but he was quick to cut her off, waving a hand in her face. "The Trish that I know wouldn't do that. The Trish that I know doesn't take shit like this sitting down."

"I know that," she said, her head hanging slightly. "But she put me on the spot, Dave... after tonight, people are going to start believing she has a chance. And I _don't_ want that."

"You know what I think, babe? I think you should let it go," Dave instructed, reaching across the seat and resting his hand in her lap. "Just stop worrying about, for tonight at least. Tomorrow morning, after you get some sleep, then you plot your revenge."

"I won't be able to sleep," she admitted. The thought of Christy and her former arch-nemesis pointing and laughing after Trish was laid out by a Twist of Fate - a lame Twist of Fate, at that - would fester in her mind until sunrise.

"Well then," he said, a sly grin curling the edges of his slips as he slid to the middle of the seat. "I guess I'll have to help..." He placed his arm around her shoulder, his lips finding her neck. "You know," he mumbled between soft, wet kisses, "Occupy your mind a little."

Trish arched her neck, sighing quietly. A lazy smile found her face as her eyes fluttered shut. "That just might do the trick..."


End file.
